Seeing the truth
by Egyptian Dreamer
Summary: Harry was always reminded of how similar he was with Voldemort's former self and when he didn't, others somehow made sure to remind him. What he can't understand though is why? At least he's about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone! **

**I've got a new story for you. It was an idea that struck me the other night and seeing as I wanted to make an oneshot about Harry and Tom, it worked just fine for me.**

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, and the story will be solemnly on Harry's pov. **

**Seeing the truth **

There was this boy once, you see…

An unfortunate lad he was, that one. He was called many things… An abomination, a freak, a genius, a model student, a hypocrite…

To most of the world he was known as devil incarnate, a plague that would surely befall you if you so much as dared to utter his name. To those with whom he shared the same beliefs he was known as Lord and Master.

I however knew him as the murderer of my parents, the reason of my suffering, my enemy and my destiny.

People always used to say how I reminded them of someone…

Most of them would shrug it off, blaming the genes and my father's traits that had passed onto me. It wouldn't be the first time someone told me how alike I was with my father. I knew better though…

My deceased parent wasn't the only one that I held a resemblance with.

That little fact became known to me during my second year at Hogwarts, when I met him for the first time, the real him. Not the model student that always earned praises, nor the evil Lord that inspired dread even to his most loyal followers.

He didn't pretend with me, didn't hide behind the safety of one of his many masks.

That was the first time I met Tom Marvolo Riddle, not the prefect that later on became Head Boy because of his exceedingly good grades, but the cunning, ambitious boy that would later on become my damnation.

It was also the first time that he told me the same thing others did, with the exception that unlike them, he most definitely wasn't referring to my father. He told me of how much I reminded him of himself.

Of how he could see a potential in me similar, if not equal, to his own.

Power like his own.

Soul like his own.

I shall never forget that day and not because I nearly lost my life that night… again. No, after all I never went into much detail about the basilisk's venom, not even Ginny knew what had been the origin of my injury.

That day forever stayed imprinted in my memory for it was from that day forth that doubts began clawing at my heart. The most evil wizard of all time had told me I was like him.

And when people wonder who I remind them of, the bitter truth always comes back to haunt me.

Why was I like him?

Was I evil too, or was my heart as black as his?

My twelve year old mind was thankful to be put somewhat at ease. Some of Lord Voldemort's abilities passed onto me the night he cursed me, Professor Dumbledore had said.

I am not evil, I had thought with relief.

But then, why was the Sorting Hat so adamant into placing me in Slytherin?

Next year's events effectively managed to take my mind off those things, my fears having been obscured by pure joy after reuniting with my father's best friends, not to mention the seer happiness that one of them was my godfather, the guardian that I longed for so desperately.

But no one was ever favored with a prolonged peace of mind and certainly I wasn't going to be the exception to that rule.

Peter Pettigrew, the man that had condemned my parents to their fate, killed again under his Master's order.

'_Kill the spare!'_

That single sentence would haunt me long after the unmoving body of the boy I had come to consider as something relatively close to a friend had fallen to the ground.

How the hell could someone be so cruel? So unmerciful?

Tom Riddle had been reborn, but not as the boy I met two years ago. And for once I was thankful. Thankful that this was one similarity minus, thankful that I didn't have to stare at the face that I was slowly beginning to resemble now that I had reached puberty.

Because I wouldn't be able to stand the thought that the reason of the death of so many people was staring right back at me each time I gazed into the mirror.

And yet, when I was finally absolutely sure that there was no fucking way for me to be such a monster, my world was turned upside down once more.

I learnt, with the hard way naturally, that our wands shared the same core, they were technically twins. Yet another thing that he and I had in common and yet again I was proven that fate enjoyed watching me suffer.

Why? Why was the universe so bloody intent to prove Tom's theory from two years ago? Why I of all people had to share so many things with the Dark Lord? Me, whom he has hurt the most?

Unlike all the previous times though, the connection between our wands was truly the one thing that I was thankful for. Not only it allowed me to have the closest contact that I had had so far with my parents but it also accomplished the nearly impossible task of walking away that night with my life intact.

Fate might have been against me but I was certain that Lady Luck was on my side of the war.

But from then on, things only seemed to worsen.

The fact that nobody believed me when I told them that the Dark Lord was back, fueled by the other fact that my friends shunned me all summer and so did Dumbledore, only added up inside me to the point that I was continuously feeling like a steaming pot that was about to blow up at any given moment.

So angry and enraged I was throughout the entire year, that I used to snap at my friends for the smallest of things when I knew that they were only trying to help me.

But I was scared too.

It wasn't like me to be so unreasonably angry, so unimaginably exasperated all the time and it scared me out of my wits. Was Tom Riddle feeling like this too before he ended up the way he's now?

Another habit of mine that had been adopted through the year. I was comparing every little thing I did with Riddle's actions, always wondering if he had done it too.

But it was later on that I realized the reason behind my newly fragile temper…

As Professor Snape so _kindly _pointed out, it seemed that Voldemort had found the way to use the connection between us to his advantage. I never doubted that Tom Riddle possessed a brilliant mind, but his actions always reminded of that little fact.

He wasn't the only one to make some progress with our link, though. Yes, my disastrous mood swings were usually caused by him entering my mind, but also because I tapped into his emotions quite frequently, without my notice too. It's very unnerving the anger and pure rage that the Dark Lord seems to feel all the time.

Another thought that frightened me… Did that mean that I was becoming more like him?

But Voldemort didn't intrude my mind just to pass his time. He wanted to achieve something much more sinister and plainly evil and I, being the clueless fool that I was, did nothing to prevent him.

On the contrary actually… I helped him accomplish his plan.

He set out a well made trap, placed the bait, and I fell for it.

Sirius was gone.

My naivety and foolishness cost me the only remaining member of my family, because of me, Lupin lost yet another best friend.

And as if that wasn't more than enough, I discovered yet another thing that connected me with Voldemort. There was a prophecy that spoke about the two of us. No matter how hard I tried to escape, to run away from everything that had to do with Voldemort, it was as if an invisible hand kept dragging back, forcing me to face the very fact that I despised the most.

The very thing that was my greatest fear…

That summer was the hardest yet. My relatives rejoiced about the fact that Sirius could no longer threaten them into playing nice, something that they kept reminding at every chance they got, always going on about how I got what I rightfully deserved.

I have to admit that there was a little bit of truth in their words though. Somehow, every person that was close to me always seemed to get hurt.

My parents…

Cedric…

My godfather…

Not to mention that my friends nearly died in the Department of Mysteries. And of course, we can't forget our little adventure in second year too.

Ginny was nearly killed by Tom Riddle. And just because I had made friends with her brother.

Many people would have been loads better if they had never met me, or gotten themselves involved with me.

Was I being punished for something that I did? For being so similar with Voldemort?

Soon enough, another year at Hogwarts started and this time, each time I had to use the loo, each time I had to take a shower, I did my best not to look into the mirror. Ron, and generally all the boys that I shared the dormitory with, always gave me funny looks each time they saw me rushing out of the bathroom like I was being chased by the devil himself.

Which technically, I was.

I couldn't stand it. It drove me nuts. And the worse thing was that I couldn't talk to anyone about it, not even my best friends. What was I supposed to say anyway? Sorry for being so paranoid lately guys, but I just can't bear seeing Riddle's face every time I pass in front of a mirror.

No, they wouldn't understand.

If I thought I was beginning to look like him in my fourth year, there was no place for doubts now. I had grown during the summer, something that I hadn't paid attention to due to my mood.

And when I finally did, it was like having a bucket full of icy, cold water thrown at you.

My eyes had sharpened, my face had grown thinner and my skin had taken an unhealthy, pale glow. Results of my summer treatment by my relatives. Anyone in my place would have gotten thinner if they were fed once every two days.

All in all, now it was like looking at a replica of the boy I had met four years ago. The only difference was in our eyes. Fortunately, the color was the only thing that had remained the same. My mother's eyes. If they too changed to resemble Tom Riddle's dark green, I would surely flip.

As much shaken up as I was from these changes, I couldn't help but wonder… what had happened to make Riddle look like this?

What I didn't know was that the answer would present itself to me in the _very_ near future.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**

**I know I said this was going to be a oneshot, but it seems that the story will turn into a multichapter.**

**The second chapter will probably be up soon since I'm already writing it, but it's going to depend on whether you like it or not. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's another update for you guys!**

**And hopefully it'll have more action than the previous one.**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Deep breaths.

That's what I kept telling myself as I resurfaced from the image I had just witnessed. Deep breaths were essential not only to prevent me from hyperventilating, but also to help that memory I viewed sink down.

Tom Riddle and I were truly alike, just not only in the way I had thought.

I looked up, but Dumbledore seemed to be as calm as ever, a complete contrast to the mess of mingled up emotions that I was.

But something kept nagging at my mind while the memory was playing itself. "Did you know it, sir? Then?"

Only for a second, a few wrinkles made themselves known on Dumbledore's forehead as he pondered my question over in his head. But as soon they had come, they were gone. And so was the wizard's confusion.

"If I knew that I was talking to the most dangerous wizard of all? No, I didn't. If I had known, then I…"

Now it was my turn to frown.

I raked my brain for the possible meaning behind his words, but Dumbledore didn't elaborate further. He turned his back to me, moving to reclaim his previous position behind his desk.

I felt my eyes widen considerably when finally realization hit me.

"Sir, he was only a kid then." The words were out before I could stop them, or think them over for that matter.

But from the way Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, even if it was only a fraction, I probably should have.

"Harry, you do realize that this is Voldemort we're talking about. He might was a child, but as you saw for yourself, he had already started acting like his future self. The Tom in that memory said that he could make bad things happen to the people that were mean to him, to make them hurt. That's not something that you say, unless you've already attempted it."

My eyes narrowed as well. Was that really his way of dealing with the situation, or he just refused to face the real truth?

"Sir, Riddle grew up in an orphanage. He didn't have anyone and furthermore, after his magic made itself known the other kids probably considered him a monster, a freak. Surely there were some of them that wanted to hurt him for his abnormality. He was most likely bitten up, bullied, mistreated and-"

"Harry, I understand that you had a very hard childhood, but you shouldn't confuse yourself with him."

My breath hitched in my throat, right then and there.

I could feel the anger that I knew was coming beginning to boil up inside me. That moment I was thankful that I wasn't holding my wand, for it would have surely snapped from the way I was clenching my fists.

For the first time, I wasn't angry for having discovered another thing that I had in common with Voldemort, or rather Riddle since he was nothing but a lonely, miserable kid back then. No, this time all of my anger was directed solemnly at Dumbledore.

"To be truthful, sir… if I'm correct about the way that you treated him, I'm not surprised in the slightest that Riddle turned out like this."

I didn't wait long enough to receive a response. If I stayed a second longer there, I would have surely blown up Dumbledore's entire office, not just the things on his desk.

I stormed out of the man's office, making quite a successful demonstration of my rage by slamming the door. I was fuming all the way to the Gryffindor Tower, scaring a couple of first years that happened to pass me by, not that I could give a damn at this very moment.

The Fat Lady literally jumped in her portrait when I screamed the password at her. When she finally opened up for me to walk through, I marched inside the common room, not even paying attention to anything but the way to the boys' dormitory.

I distantly heard someone call my name, but I was just too caught up in my anger to actually care. The moment that someone grabbed my arm, I didn't even think. My brain was shut down in an attempt to deal with all those enraged thoughts that were going through it and so, my body acted purely on instinct.

When I whirled around, my wand was already clutched tightly in my hand and the curse was only a second away from leaving my lips. But when my eyes seemed to register what they were seeing exactly, it was already too late.

I was only too thankful when my uncooperative mind sent the signal to change the spell just in time before it left my wand.

"_Expelliarmus."_I shouted, instead of the stunning curse I was about to throw. Hermione's brown eyes widened considerably as she was abruptly thrown backwards, soundlessly landing on top of the couch.

"Harry!" I heard Ron exclaim in surprise from somewhere next to me.

Cursing inwardly, I pocketed my wand and rushed over to Hermione, whose body sat frozen on the spot she had landed.

"Damn it, Hermione! Don't do things like that when I'm not paying attention." I said while kneeling down next to her, Ron soon joining me and checking her all over for any injuries.

But when her eyes remained unmoving and her mouth slightly agape from the shock, everything inside me seemed to snap back into place.

"I'm sorry." I breathed out, my body moving on its own and pulling her into my arms. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I didn't mean it, really."

I finally felt her body beginning to snap out of its shock, but now mine was starting to shake. I didn't care that Ron was watching, hell I didn't even care the entire common room was watching. I had nearly attacked one of my best friends just a minute ago. I mean, _really_ attacked. With the ferocity that I had only ever used when fighting with a Death Eater.

And it was all Dumbledore's fault.

Hermione's arms slowly wrapped around my back, embracing me back. "Harry, it's okay. I'm not hurt." she said, her hands rubbing soothing circles in my back.

Allowing my self to take a few deep breaths, I pulled away. "That's good." I whispered quietly, before adding in the same tone, "I need to talk to you."

The two of them exchanged glances, knowing all too well that it had something to do with my meeting with Dumbledore. Sometimes, it makes me wonder exactly how easily we can read one another.

I stood up and as it was expected, everyone's eyes were turned towards us. Unable to resist the urge to roll my eyes, I gestured towards the dormitory with my head, indicating that we should we and talk there. Once I received two simultaneous nods, I made my way over the stairs, grinning when I heard Ron's exasperated yell in the behind, "Don't you have something else to stare at?

Dean and Seamus were probably somewhere in the castle, and I had seen Neville downstairs, meaning that it was pretty safe to talk here. Just to make sure though, Hermione, being thoughtful as always, cast a couple of locking charms on the door for precaution.

"_Muffliato."_ She added for extra measure before turning to us.

I moved to sit down on my bed and the other two did the same but on Ron's bed. I was really thankful for having being allowed my privacy, because I still needed to work out my thoughts.

I had never seen that side of Dumbledore before and I have to admit, it was truly frightening. Would he have treated me the same way if I had chosen to use my powers like Riddle had?

Would he have shunned me away too?

"Tom Riddle is a half-blood, like me. He's an orphan, like me. He was bullied and abused, like me."

They didn't gasp, for that I give them credit. But when I looked up, their eyes had widened comically. It nearly made me laugh.

"Harry, what…" Ron began, but Hermione was much more eloquent with words, "Are you sure?" she asked, moving a bit more towards the edge of the bed and leaning forward, as if afraid that someone would eavesdrop on our conversation.

"He showed me, Hermione. Dumbledore did. It was a memory of Tom Riddle from when he was eleven."

Hermione scowled, her face taking that thoughtful expression she usually had when studying. Ron on the other hand, kept staring between her and me, a totally lost expression on his face.

"And… and what does that mean?"

"What do you mean?" I snapped at him, obviously I was more exasperated than I had thought.

"What Ron meant to say is what does that mean for us? What is it to you?" said Hermione, her eyes glued to my face. It would have been unsettling if not for the newly found waves of anger that washed over me.

"I know it's horrible…" she hurried to add, probably realizing that I was about to blow up, "That kind of thing should never be allowed. No magical child should ever have to grow through it. But from what we know so far, he was no angel either. He basked in others' pain and misery. He did horrible things too, abused the power he had on others to carry out his evil deeds. He murdered, Harry, on more than one occasions."

I stood up abruptly, cutting off her rant. I don't know what kind of emotions my eyes were displaying, but from the way they both shivered, I reckon they mustn't have liked them.

Did she really think I had forgotten he's a murderer?

"You don't understand, Hermione." I gritted out, "That boy was abused, and Dumbledore knew it all too well. And yet he did nothing to prevent it! Just like he didn't do anything to prevent my own childhood from being so crappy."

Only vaguely I took notice of the way my feet had begun moving, pacing between the two beds. Now that I had found my train of thought, I didn't want to lose it.

"Riddle was treated like a monster. I was treated like a freak. We both suffered by the hand of Muggles, whether they were relatives or mere caretakers. We both paid a price for possessing magic, something that made others believe that we were equally possessed. The only difference between us is that he chose to do something about it instead of sitting back and allowing to get bloody beaten!"

I froze in midstep, turning my head to the side to stare at them, pleading them to see my point, to realize even a fraction of the feelings that were going through me. I needed them to understand.

"Don't you see? If I had opted to make all the Muggles that picked up on me pay, much like Riddle did, Dumbledore would have considered me evil too, while I would only be trying to defend myself."

"But that's exactly the point, Harry." Hermione began, cautiously and calculatingly, as if she was treading on dangerous waters. Not that I blame her.

"Tom Riddle didn't just defend himself, Harry." she went on, "Tom Riddle wanted to cause them the pain they had caused him. He wanted to make them hurt."

"That's completely logical, Hermione! They hurt him, he wanted to hurt them back. No one was ever there for him, Hermione. No one ever told him that there isn't just one way to deal with things!"

"Then why didn't you hurt them too?" Hermione shouted, standing up from the bed in the blink of an eye and seizing me by the arm, her eyes never leaving mine all the while. "Nobody ever told _you_ what's good and what isn't, Harry! And yet you didn't go hurting your relatives or every other kid that treated you badly! Why didn't you cause them as much pain as they had caused you then, Harry?"

I clenched my teeth, something akin to a hiss passing through them. Hermione took a step back before I had the chance to shake her hand off.

She sat back down on the bed, brown eyes not breaking the contact with mine. But what made me take a step back as well was that brief emotion that flashed in her eyes, that flicker of fear.

Had I caused that?

"You aren't like him, mate." Ron spoke up for the first time after his earlier question, his blue eyes glowing with a resolve I had only seen while in Quidditch matches. It made me realize that Ron meant what he said with every fiber of his being.

And it actually frightened me.

I don't know why I did it, but I ran. Remaining in their presence was causing me something that I had never thought it would…

...Pain.

The fear I had inflicted on Hermione and the fierce trust that Ron had in me… It was making me hurt.

Ever since the Tri-Wizard tournament Ron was set on never betraying my trust again, of never making me doubt our friendship ever again. But only now I realized just how serious he actually was about it.

But Ron was wrong.

I had just proven that I _could_ be like Riddle if I wanted to.

Never before had I made my friends scared. Yes, last year I had caused them to be wary when around me, but I had never seen actual, solid fear in their eyes.

I hated it that.

Hated how easy it was to act like him one moment and the next act like my usual self again. Hated how alike the two of us were.

I didn't know what to think anymore, and quite frankly, I didn't want to think about anything and anyone right now. Much too painful. I just wanted to take my mind off things for a while, to pretend if even for a moment that everything was like it used to. That it was normal, or at least as normal as it can get when I'm involved.

And I knew that there were only two places that would guarantee me a little piece of mind.

But since the Chamber of Secrets was crowded with way too many memories, even if it was the safest of the two seeing as I was the only Parselmouth in school, it was out of the question.

That left me with only one other option, the Room of Requirement.

***)&(***

Awkward was one way to describe it after that night. Ron and Hermione were wise enough to avoid mentioning that specific topic ever again, but all of us were aware of the fact that our relationship wasn't as close.

Perhaps it was because our opinions were divided when it came to the matter of Tom Riddle.

I wanted to blame _him _for that, for making me get my distance from my friends again, but deep down I knew it was none other's fault but mine. I shouldn't sympathize with him so much, but it was merely understanding that drove me to do that. I knew how he must have felt all too well.

And to top it all, Dumbledore seemed to have recovered from our meeting since he had requested my presence again, as it was stated in the letter I received.

After submitting the password to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance and the statue brought me up to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, I raised my hand to knock on the door, not surprised when it opened on its own before I had even touched it. Dumbledore knew I was coming.

He was sitting in the same position I had left him and for a moment there I couldn't help but think if he had moved at all.

"Do come in, my boy." said Dumbledore, gesturing towards a chair in front of his desk with his blackened hand. My gaze immediately landed on it, curiosity once again peaked.

He had yet to tell me how he had acquired it.

I reciprocated, mostly because of my puzzlement about my being here, but my eyes didn't stop in their wary search of Dumbledore's face. Surely he wouldn't show me another memory of Tom Riddle after what happened the last time?

"I believe you must be aware of the reason I summoned you here tonight, Harry." Dumbledore began, his sky blue eyes twinkling in their usual ominous manner behind his half-moon spectacles. "We'll be continuing from where we left off. As it is, this time, we are going to view a memory of young Tom Riddle from when he was a teenage boy."

My bewilderment must have shown on my face, for Dumbledore paused in his moves to retrieve the pensieve, his gaze boring into mine, searching. I broke the contact, but not quick enough. He was smiling now, albeit slightly.

"You're hesitant." he said, or rather stated.

"You said you'd be willing to kill a little kid." I snapped back, my voice rising without meaning to. But I could have as well as shouted with all the strength of my lungs and I doubt there would have been a difference in his expression.

"Tell me, Harry…"

I blinked at him. That man had major mood swings. He could go from being playful to dead serious in no time.

"How is that any different from what he did? Wasn't he the one that intended to kill a defenseless baby right from the start?"

"But that's exactly why it's different, sir. Because you're not him."

I never expected him to be so taken aback by my response. Had I spoken again without thinking? After the initial shock seemed to wear off, I was relieved to see Dumbledore's usual gentle smile in place. He didn't say anything else after that, but he did seem pleased as he gestured me towards the pensieve.

***)&(***

My mind was in a frenzy. Thoughts and emotions jumbled together, messed up and tangled.

My face must have lost whatever little color it had for it was Dumbledore's concerned whisper of my name that snapped me back to reality.

"That hourglass…" I croaked, my voice wavering from the shock.

"Hourglass?" was Dumbledore's puzzled question.

He must be thinking I'm nuts. Here I was, worrying over a stupid hourglass instead of the reason why that fucking memory made no sense at all. But right now I could only focus on that object.

"I had referred to that item as well… in order to stir conversation."

"My boy, that was…-"

"I've done it before." I mages flashed before my eyes as if summoned by my words, memories that I had forgotten, or chosen to forget, "At my second year you had asked me if there was something I wished to tell you and I had answered that there wasn't. The night Myrtle died you all those years ago you addressed Riddle with the same question and he…responded with the same words that I did."

"_No, sir. Nothing." _The words kept echoing in my head, over and over again. Spoken by two different persons and yet sounding as if spoken by one mouth.

My shoulders were grabbed suddenly in a firm hold. It didn't hurt nor was it any painful since they were only being shaken, but it was enough to attract my attention back to the person gripping them.

"Listen to me, Harry. Listen!" Dumbledore's voice rose to a point it resembled a shout when my eyes slipped from his, effectively making my gaze snap back to his own just as commanded.

"That was a mere coincidence. By no chance was it anything other than that. Do you understand, Harry? Nothing but a coincidence."

"A coincidence." I repeated, desperate to convince myself, to allow his reassuring words to sooth me.

He stared into my eyes for a moment and I could see that he clearly wanted to discuss the memory, but my reaction must have scared him as much it had me. Dumbledore drew back, one arm dropping by his side while the other remained on my shoulder. We just sat like that for a moment, neither talking, just allowing ourselves to calm down.

"Go back to your dormitory, my boy. Rest. I'll let you know when our next meeting should be held."

I felt myself nod distantly, not really bothering with words not even when the Headmaster bid me goodnight.

When the gargoyle lowered me to the ground I all but ran, wanting to put some distant between us but also because I wanted to focus on something entirely different than my thoughts. Why did he have to show me that stupid memory? It was meaningless anyway.

It was still an hour until curfew so I didn't bother to conceal the sound of my footsteps. I didn't really care where I was going. I knew this castle by heart so I just let my feet carry me wherever they wanted as long as the movements kept my mind occupied.

I don't know for how long I kept running through the castle's corridors but my feet were now aching dully. I halted, panting and gasping for breath and for the first time I glanced around at my surroundings.

I was on the seventh floor.

I walked to the end of the corridor, standing just a few feet away from the wall where the entrance to the Room of Requirement usually appeared. I milked my brain for the correct formation of the sentence that would state what I needed. But here was the problem. I needed more than one thing at the moment.

_I want a place to help relax my mind._

_I want something to distract me._

_I want to forget everything._

_I want to…_

Something akin to a sob escaped my lips. I closed my eyes shut and pressed my aching forehead against the smooth surface of the stone wall, palm also pressed flat against it.

…_I want to disappear._

"You are troubled." The voice was soft, gentle, but it caused a growl to rise from my throat. I didn't recognize the owner of the voice and I really didn't care. I just wanted to be left alone right now!

"And you're troublesome." I spat, finally drawing away from the wall and spun around. The sight that met me made me blink.

It was a woman I had never met before, with long, straight brown hair and a long sleeved dark grey dress. But what caught my attention was the fact that she was floating a few meters above the ground. Wait a sec…

"You are the Grey Lady… the ghost of Ravenclaw House."

The woman didn't smile or anything, she didn't even confirm my claim.

"What bothers you so?"

I frowned. "I thought you didn't speak to students."

"I speak to those who seek my guidance." said she while slithering forward, expression never changing.

I could feel my eyes narrowing and I combed a hand through my disheveled locks, eyes closing in exasperation before focusing on her again. "Look… I didn't seek your guidance and not to sound rude or anything, but I don't need it either. What I need is some alone time to gather this mess I call thoughts."

I had already started walking past her when she spoke next, "Strange but, you remind me him a little."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. If only my eyes were the same color we would look like twins." I said above my shoulder, widening the distance between us with every intention to leave her behind. I knew I was being downright rude to someone I had only just met, but the only company I needed right now was that of myself. It was crowded in my head as it is.

"James Potter held no familiarity with me. No… you remind me _**him.**_"

I froze on my tracks. I could swear that for a moment I had forgotten how to breathe. I turned around slowly, chest heaving with apprehension and the next moment there she was, right in front of me. Studying my face, my thin frame, my arms, legs everything. And I knew she was doing the very thing that no other had ever done before; comparing them to the real thing, Tom Riddle.

Somewhere in her examination she had begun trailing around me, floating in circles to a point that was beginning to make me dizzy. I managed to catch a few words here and there such as 'most curious' and 'indeed' but no coherent sentences.

"Did you know, young one…" she began again, finally stopping before me, something that I was thankful for, "eyes are windows to the soul. And yours are most expressive, just like his."

My eyes widened considerably.

"Oh, yes…" she went on, "very few had the privilege to see them unguarded and for a while, I had been one of them."

"_For a while."_ Those words repeated themselves in my mind like a broken record. For a while, she said. Then, that meant…

"Did he hurt you too?"

Her eyes were instantly glued to my own, searching for any trace of mockery or irony that had been concealed from my voice. Was it really so difficult to believe that I had asked out of genuine interest?

Her calculating eyes halted in their frantic search but they still remained on my face. After a moment of pondering whether or not I was deemed worthy of the answer, she finally spoke, "He tricked me."

I had to strain myself not to snort, knowing fully well that she would offended. "Well, I'm hearing it was a hobby of his."

When she merely averted her gaze I couldn't help but feel relieved that she didn't find my comment rude or anything. I won't lie. It was the first time that someone spoke about Riddle without a sense of disdain or venom in their voice and the fact that it was coming from her, a ghost that spoke to very few if not any students, made me want to hear more. I didn't want to drive her away because of some stupid remark.

"I could see it in his eyes then." Her voice brought me abruptly back from my musings, "Always filled with a somewhat permanent anger and a greed for power like no other. I already suspected what would become of him but I recall choosing to ignore it. He was a good listener, you see. Understanding and kind. The first student that didn't make fun of me, he was."

She paused there, probably losing herself in her memories. Memories of Riddle. As if sensing my need to learn more, the Gray Lady continued.

"So I poured out my heart to him. We talked endlessly about our pasts, not that I'm certain how much sincere the things he spoke of were. I could see it in his eyes, though. They spoke of honesty. And why wouldn't he be? He knew that I would never relay any of the things he talked about to anyone. We were both aware that I wouldn't betray the first person that saw the real me."

But then, for the first time, her expression changed, morphing into a scowl. That change brought worry to the pit of my stomach. I didn't like that look on her. It almost made her look sad. What had she remembered that brought forth such a reaction?

And then, her eyes locked onto mine. I didn't falter from the intensity of her gaze, but it certainly peaked my curiosity.

"I thought so." she said out of the blue, seeming to respond to one of her musings.

"Excuse me?" I inquired, making no sense whatsoever from what she had just said.

I blinked a couple of times when one of her hands came up to cup my cheek, not strongly enough for it to pass right through me but with the right amount of pressure to make me feel a tingling sensation on my cheek.

"What is it?" I probed, genuinely eager to be enlightened with her thoughts. My eyebrows creased into a small frown. Okay, maybe I was a little freaked out too.

"You have the same look in your eyes. They are filled with a variety of emotions and yet they are so utterly hollow."

My frown transformed into a full blown scowl. Yes, definitely freaked out.

"I can recall with a certainty seeing them sparkle with life once. What has happened to transfigure them so? What is it that you are missing, little one?"

I could feel my mouth open and close a couple of times, but I didn't know why no words would come out. I huffed, the only sound that could actually come out. I turned my head to the side, away from her hand, and bit my lower lip. Her words had cracked something inside me, I could feel it.

I already knew what was the reason of my constant headaches, the cause that made my world spiral down. But only now I realized that there had been indeed something missing.

I had kept on asking myself why again and again. It was right in front of me and I yet I had been blinded all this time.

I moved my head to its previous position. Fortunately she had already withdrawn her hand and I didn't have to deal with the freezing sensation when ghost went through you, even if it was only a ghostly hand.

This time however, I was the one that sought out her gaze, not the other way around.

"Why do you insist on calling yourself Grey Lady? Isn't Helena your real name?" I really didn't want to think the irony of the situation.

Helena Ravenclaw – The Grey Lady

Tom Marvolo Riddle – I Am Lord Voldemort

Harry Potter – The-Boy-Who-Lived

Titles that we had fashioned for ourselves or we earned them through our actions. Oh, great. Add another thing to the endless list of things you have in common with Voldemort.

Back to the matter at hand however, I seemed to have upset her judging by her scowl. I didn't mean to though. Damn, I just blurted out my question without even thinking it over. Well, figures.

But then again, I never expected the answer I received either.

"For the same reason that you keep running, young one… To leave behind the person that isn't me."

I balled my hands into fists, clenching them tightly. Yes, I wish it was so easy to leave that person behind, to be free of the control he had over my own life.

"I was missing the truth." I muttered through gritted teeth, "I will learn the answer as to why he and I are so similar and when I do… I might be able to leave him behind for good."

Her lips curled into the tiniest of smiles. "Find it then, lad. Find the truth and that hollowness might be curable after all."

And just like that, the Grey Lady was gone. I could see now why she was the ghost of Ravenclaw. Not because she was the daughter of one of the Founders, but because she was brilliant, smart like her mother.

Getting rid of certain traits, whether it was Parseltongue or cleverness, would be harder than it looked.

But how can you remove something that's in your blood?

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**

**Okay, I hope you like it!**

**There's one more chapter to go, probably two.**

**Next chapter, Harry finds out why he's so similar with Voldemort!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This will probably be the last chapter, or the next to last. Depends on the length.**

**I hope you enjoy it! ^^**

**CHAPTER THREE **

Helena was right. I needed to find answers to my questions, and perhaps, when I finally learnt the truth, I might was able to move on and go back to my daily routine. Go back to my friends.

But in order to find the truth, I had to go to someone willing to give it to me. And Dumbledore was the first one out of my list.

In the spur of the moment, I had a sudden epiphany.

This man might be more willing to help me, seeing as not only I'm his most prized accessory but also the son of his most favorite pupil. Exactly why he became my first choice without so much as a second thought.

The moment he saw me standing outside of his office, he ushered me in with that usual smile that always brightened his face whenever he saw me.

I used to think that this was because of my eyes, because they reminded him of my mother. But now I'm not sure anymore. After that memory I saw, I'm beginning to think it's because I remind him of someone else, another favorite student of his.

The hourglass was still there, sitting in the same spot that I had left it, in the very same spot that it was sitting in that memory.

My feet carried me towards it as if they had a mind of their own and my hand moved to rest gently on it as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. Had Riddle touched you on more than one occasion? He didn't question your use in the memory, so I guess he must have seen you before.

Why do they keep me in the dark? They have done it before, last year. Nobody told me anything about the things that were going on, not even Sirius. Why?

What are they afraid I will find out?

"What did you think, sir? What did you think when I asked about your hourglass?" I can see that my question has startled him if not confused him. But by the way he paused just before taking a sip from his drink, I can tell that he must be aware of what I'm referring to.

But it doesn't hurt to make it crystal clear to him. "Were you thinking of the time when Tom Riddle asked you?"

Now his eyes grew wide. I would be lying if I said that I hadn't seen that one coming. I knew he'd be reluctant to talk about this subject, but he's the only one that can answer my questions. He had said before that if there was a monster in Riddle, it was buried deep within. What else does he know?

His eyes drifted towards the door, with no doubt wishing it would open and someone would come to his rescue. But I've had enough of that reaction from everyone.

"Please, sir, I need to know. How was he like? No one will tell me." He glanced at me now, studying my face and finally my eyes. He always stares at my eyes if only for a moment before quickly glancing away when I catch him to it.

But not this time. This time he kept staring at them as if they were the most unique sight in the world. Are they glowing with the same determination as Riddle's the night he had asked him about that thing in the memory?

And it makes me wonder. What had he asked him about? I never learnt.

"Do I remind you of him, sir, every time you look at me? Whenever I gaze into the mirror it's like I'm staring at his face. It scares me, sir. Why it's happening though, no one knows, and those who do know, refuse to tell me."

Only now he looked away. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to watch Riddle's eyes plead like that. I know for a given that Tom Riddle never begged, he simply got what he wanted and whenever he wanted. The way he charmed everyone to give in to his wishes is with no doubt impressive.

If I have his looks, does that mean that I have his persuasion as well?

"I have to know. How am I supposed to fight this war when I'm so similar with the enemy?"

Slughorn had sat down, one hand still holding the now forgotten glass and the other gripping the armrest of the sofa. But his eyes have snapped back to me. Is it sincerity that he's looking for, or the charmed deception that used to linger in another pair of green?

"… The resemblance really is uncanny, but the cover isn't what matters." My breathing was becoming rapider. Why such a simple sentence had such an effect on me?

Was it because he finally began talking? Or simply because someone had for once told me we weren't as alike as I had thought… as I had feared?

"He was very charming when he wanted to, Harry. Always determined to get what he desired…" Slughorn trailed off, leaving me hanging by his every word. Of course I had expected that, but this image was much different from the one Helena had given me.

Which Tom Riddle was the real one? The imposing boy that only wanted to gain power, or the lonely, ambitious one? Perhaps… was Tom Riddle both?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that it was already late when I noticed Slughorn going for his wand. But before I could reach for mine, he raised his and pressed the tip to his temple, leaving me openly blinking. Was he seriously going to curse himself?

But it seemed that stopping him was needless, for no curse came out of his wand, only a soft blue thread of light.

He didn't pause with his movements and grabbed an empty glass vial from the table in front of him, guiding the nearly silver thread inside. I was startled when it turned into a golden liquid substance. But it seemed eerily familiar.

That was when it hit me! The memories that I had witnessed with Dumbledore had had the same color before turning into a color akin to ink the moment they touched the surface of the pensieve.

Had he given me a memory?

"This will show you exactly the kind of person he was, but please, Harry. I implore you not to judge me too much after seeing it. He could be very persuasive when he wanted."

I could only nod, the words refusing to leave my mouth. Yes, that was something I already knew. After all, Riddle himself had told me so, down in the Chamber.

"Thank you, sir." I whispered softly, for some reason unable to utter anything more.

He must have felt the gratitude that I was unable to form into words for he tried to smile for me, to reassure me that everything was going to be alright, and quite frankly, I hoped with every ounce of my being that he was right.

***)&(***

I was left speechless, but the most surprising thing was that so was Dumbledore. Of course, each of us for a completely different reason.

I had been in need for a pensieve immediately, and Dumbledore was the only one I was aware of being in possession of one. I had been really anxious to see the content of the memory that I had been willing to overlook the fact that I was allowing the elder wizard to witness a memory that felt so private.

It actually came as a shock when I realized that what I was seeing was the same as the previous memory, but not tampered with.

As much as I'm ashamed to admit it, what had left me in that non-verbal state was Riddle's performance. The way he had manipulated Slughorn into giving him the information he needed had been flawless, as if perfected after years of actual practice. He had such a way with words, that when he was done talking you were mostly left wondering what your original musings were before Riddle had begun talking.

But Dumbledore, having taught the boy himself must have become used to it, because he was shocked about a different matter entirely.

Well, from his expression at least I believe he's shocked. One can never know with Dumbledore.

"You think he made it, sir? You think he managed to make these Horcruxes?"

Those striking blue eyes snapped back to me, but from the way they were still wide I couldn't be sure whether or not the man had actually heard me. It was as if he was looking at me while not actually seeing me.

It was a tad creepy.

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore finally spoke, causing me to nod just so that he would continue talking, "And quite successfully, actually."

That had me gaping if only for a moment. "He made seven Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore shook his head, an unreadable expression upon his face. "I can't be sure if he succeeded into making seven of them, Harry, but I'm certain about a smaller number of them." The man walked back over to his desk, opened one of the drawers and pulled out two items.

I could feel my eyes widen in recognition at the sight of the first one. It had been four years since the last time I saw it. I had almost forgotten how battered it looked, with those holes and such.

"His diary was one of the Horcruxes?" I was aware of the bewildered tone my voice held, but it came as a shock to me.

"This ring as well." Dumbledore shoved the aforementioned ring in my direction. Hold on… that ring seemed familiar. I had seen it bef…-

But of course! Riddle had been wearing that same ring in the memory. In fact, he had been toying with it as if absently while in his conversation with Slughorn.

"You see, Harry, Dark Magic and especially powerful Dark Magic, always leaves traces, traces that…"

I tuned out the rest of Dumbledore's words and before I knew it, I was already standing in front of his desk, my eyes glued to that ring. The dark red stone on top had a strange, peculiar symbol across its surface, something that I hadn't noticed from afar.

That ring held a certain beauty to it, an aura so tempting yet forsaken at the same time. The kind that you knew would give you only trouble if you gave in. And those sounds… low, almost incoherent hisses like the drowsy purr of a sleeping cat, whispering a story of their own to those with willing ears.

My arm rose on its own accord, itching to get closer. I could feel that somebody was watching me, but I couldn't be sure whether it was Dumbledore or the ring itself. It was as if it had eyes, seeing me willing to hold it and purposely increasing its attempts to lure me.

That hissing got conspicuously louder, tempting me to move closer, engulfing me in its melody and bidding my entire attention solely to it.

My eyes closed for a moment there as I lost myself in that melodic song. When I reopened them, I could feel that my mind had taken its own decision, ignoring whatever objections I held. The ring was calling out to me… and something in me was desperate to answer.

I had barely touched that ruby stone when my mind was suddenly bombarded with a thousands pictures and feelings. Images were flashing before my eyes, most of them too flitting to distinguish them, but others were suspiciously slow, as if wanting me to glimpse them.

_A man appeared all of a sudden, a man oddly similar to a boy I knew all too well. His beautiful features were obviously constricted with fear, an expression that I instantly knew had never altered the boy's own features._

_Another man was next to him, similar but definitely older. And a woman too, just as old as the man._

_Then, there he was. The boy that deep down I was most anxious to see again. His green eyes glistening with mixed feelings of hatred and disgust. Anger however, was the more dominant of them all._

_A wand was raised, held by elegant, long fingers… his fingers._

_A nasty, laced with pure revulsion sneer curled at his lips. As if it became impossible for him to stare at the people before him, eager to walk away from their disgustingly pleading looks, a jet of bright green light shot out of the wand, engulfing the three people from head to toe._

_Their bodies fell to the floor, never to move again._

The picture was gone then and darkness filled its void place. More images flew before my eyes, giving me just the general idea of what they held before quickly dispersing. It was like they were taunting me with the knowledge they were in possession of, a knowledge that was thrust right into my hands and then was taken away.

As if being compassionate and sympathizing with me, the images came to an abrupt halt. Just when I thought that the torture was over at last…the emotions came next, flooding me and making my chest constrict painfully at the sheer intensity of them.

_Pain…unimaginable and burning pain, unlike anything I had ever felt before. It felt as if someone was tearing out a piece of my flesh, or perhaps a piece of my very essence._

_A scream of pure agony filled my head, but not like the scream a Dementor would force me to hear. _

_That scream had been definitely more feminine and made probably out of fear for the people that were left behind, fear and anger because she had been unable to protect them, fear because they would probably meet the same fate with her. Her scream held agony too, but an agony not for herself. _

_This scream was from fear of failure, and the consequences that would result from it, but also out of the scorching pain that seemed to flow through the person's body instead of blood._

_Then, silence took over._

I didn't know whether the scream had stopped, just like the images had, because of the distress and suffering it caused me, but I was all too grateful for it.

Blinking a couple of times was probably the wisest decision I had made because the entire room instantly stopped spinning and instead came back into focus. I was dazed, my brain hardly able to keep up with the information it been bombarded with. For a moment there, the only color that my mind registered was red, the crimson stone of the ring.

My gaze jerked up, connecting with sparking sapphires. It might have been my imagination, but the way they glistened seemed oddly hesitant.

"You were saying, sir?" My voice sounded strangely calm, even to my own ears. But seeing as Dumbledore was taking forever to answer such a simple question, I let my eyes drift downwards again, to the golden jewel residing contently between my fingers.

Was it me, or was the ring actually emitting some kind of purring noise?

Dumbledore had begun talking it seemed. I made a humming sound in my throat to signal that I was listening while raising the ring higher for a closer inspection. That stone was really captivating, deep red and yet glimmering like the brightest ruby when brought under the sunlight.

"-rry. Harry!"

"Hmm?" I shifted my gaze, leaving the object I was holding and focusing on the Headmaster, blinking quizzically when I saw him scowling at me. "What?" I snapped irritated, not knowing what I had done now to earn such a reprimanding stare.

He looked at the ring, that scowl still in place, before he deemed me worthy enough to enlighten me. "That is a very dangerous artifact, Harry. I don't think it is wise to be so careless around it."

Well, as far as I could tell, it hadn't hurt me in any way. "This is a Horcrux." I said, stating a thought that I already knew would be confirmed. I didn't wait for Dumbledore's confirmative nod before I went on, "You destroyed it." came my second statement.

Dumbledore was staring at me weirdly, but he did incline his head once to show his affirmation.

I felt myself nodding along, but it was strange to strain your expression into one of passiveness when all you want to do is glare. My fingers clenched a bit tighter around the ring, just for a brief moment, before I forced myself to place it on the surface of his desk. It had been so warm in my hand that I was actually feeling cold now.

"You said that powerful Dark Magic leaves traces. What kind of traces?"

His stare turned penetrating for the briefest of moments, before a pleasant smile worked its way onto his face. "Various traces. Clues, mostly, that if you tread carefully you might be able to trace them back to the source." The man was actually talking like we were speaking about the weather.

My lips stretched to match the smile he was wearing before I knew it. The man had definitely caught on with my little game. Of course, that didn't mean I was willing to admit defeat.

"Have you discovered more of those clues? Something that I should know perhaps? I might, after all, be able to help you." I was setting the bait and we both knew it. But what I was doing was, in fact, much more. I was giving him a chance. If he told me now, what I already had discovered, then the results would surely be less awful.

The moment his gaze sought out mine, I turned my eyes to the ring again, shifting my attention from it to the diary in what I hoped appeared to be a nonchalant way.

I don't know if he was aware of the consequences his next words would have if chosen incorrectly, but I waited still. This was the turning point, and he held both our fates into his hands.

"I might be aware of some, yes. In fact, I believe I might have located another Horcrux." Hmm, well, he did choose his words carefully after all.

"Really? What object is it this time?" I still hadn't lifted my eyes from the two already destroyed Horcruxes before me. Actually, I didn't even need to do so to know that he was smiling at me, the same smile that showed he was aware of a truth and yet unwilling to share.

I grinned, fully aware that it must have come out a bit sinister. I knew then that he wouldn't ever be willing to say it aloud, that little fact that we both knew.

"What do you plan to do with it?" This time, I did lift gaze and I was nearly caught off guard by the forlorn expression that had settled on his face.

I knew the words before he even spoke them. "They must be destroyed, Harry. All of them."

A chuckle left my lips before I could stop it. I allowed my head to lower ever so slightly, to the point that my bangs were obscuring my eyes. I wasn't going to let him see the effect his words had, the hurt that would certainly be on a clear display.

Closing my eyes only briefly, I flashed him a wide grin when I was certain it would look convincing enough. "Well, then Headmaster, if there's nothing else you'd like to share with me I think I should get going. Quidditch practice is due to start in a few minutes." My voice had even taken a joyful ring to it at the mention of my favorite sport, yet I could tell that he wasn't convinced.

Whirling on my heels, I went straight for the door, making it look like I was so anxious to meet my team mates that I couldn't possibly wait for him to dismiss me.

My hand had just taken hold of the door knob, when my name was called out, causing me to tighten my grip until my knuckles had turned white.

"Yes, sir?" I responded, angling my head accordingly to stare at him from above my shoulder.

"He needs to be destroyed." I could hear the pain in his voice, directed not to the words he had spoken but to the meaning behind them.

It made my blood boil.

"Goodbye, professor." And I meant it, with every fiber of my being.

***)&(***

I could feel quite a number of bodies bump into me as I walked, or perhaps I bumped into them. I couldn't be sure, and I couldn't bring myself to bother either.

Helena was wrong. I knew that now. I had gone searching for the answer to the questions that had piled up over the years, thinking that they would help me leave the past behind and just focus on the present.

How foolish I had been.

Leaving the past behind would entail that it longer mattered to me, when actually, in just a few hours it had become my entire world. I finally had my answers and never before had I wished so strongly that I had remained oblivious.

I blinked when I realized that I had come all the way to the second floor bathroom; Myrtle's bathroom.

Shaking my head to chase away all those thoughts, I pushed open the door and I was instantly met with a sight I had never thought possible.

I closed the door as softly as I could, my eyes not leaving the slumped form on the wet floor until I took a step forward and the figure jolted upright, wide silver eyes pinning me on the spot before narrowing.

"What the hell are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy spat, using one of his hands to haul himself up. Not that I blamed him. I didn't like to show weakness in front of the enemy either.

"Honestly? I have no idea." It was true. I hadn't been aware that I had reached this place until I was standing right outside the door.

My answer probably didn't satisfy him that much, if the glare he sent my way was anything to go by. His wand was next to follow, as he pulled out of his robes and pointed it at me. I really had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes in exasperation.

"Do you really want to duel now? Because in case you didn't notice, we're inside the girls' lavatory, there's a ghost somewhere around here that could instantly alert the teachers and moreover, I _really_ don't fancy wiping the wetness from the floor with your arse right now."

An eyebrow rising was all the answer I got for a full minute as he stared through narrowed eyes at me. "You're in a crappy mood." he stated after a moment, his wand moving back into his pocket.

I guess I did manage to convince him in the end.

I shrugged, not particularly feeling like talking but I did appreciate the fact that he hadn't started attacking me in spite of my words, something that I made known by sliding down on the floor, letting my head rest against the white wall behind me.

Thankfully, he didn't question me further and probably accepting that we had reached some kind of understanding, he reclaimed his previous position on the floor too. Today was dryer than usual, but there were some water pools in various spots on the floor. Not that it mattered anyway. A quick drying charm and my robes would be as good as new.

"Say, Malfoy…" I began, not really sure how the idea had popped into my head, "You think you could deliver a message for me?"

His brows were furrowed, the disdain obvious by the sneer that curled at his lips. "I'm not your fucking owl, Potter!"

I chuckled, realizing how absurd my request must have sounded. "Well, I can't really reach him myself and I'm certain that you would have more chances than I ever would."

His interest had been peaked, I could see it. "Him?"

A smile stretched across my face. Here goes the tricky part. "I want you to relay a message to Voldemort."

His eyes instantly grew to the size of plates before he composed himself again. He shook his head, a hand coming up to rub his temple. "You're mad."

"Now that you mention it, I'm not feeling particularly sane at the moment, but I'm certain that any person would share my sentiments when faced with the information that I was."

His interest was peaked even further now. He folded his arms over his chest and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "I'm listening." To his credit, he hadn't begun spluttering some nonsense about not having any contact whatsoever with the Dark Lord, something that we both knew would be completely and utter rubbish.

"Tell him…" I started, pausing briefly to voice my words as carefully as possible, "Tell him that I can no longer make any diary entries. Is it possible however, for a fragment of one's soul to make an entry in another human being?"

Malfoy was now openly staring at me like I had grown three heads before his very eyes.

It made me actually laugh. "No, seriously. I know it sounds crazy, but believe me, Voldemort will understand. And if he doesn't, I promise I will allow you to brag to the whole school that you've beaten me to a duel."

A snort left his throat. "Trust me, they _know_ I can beat you. I don't need to spread any rumors about it."

Now it was my turn to shake my head. Our rivalry never ceased to amuse me. With a sigh, I stood up, performed the drying charm on my robes and turned to leave, not really seeing any point to prolong my stay.

"You really want me to tell him that?" His voice held amusement, perhaps even a hint of irony, but I was far from mocking.

"I'd appreciate it, yes." I don't know if it was the dead seriousness of my tone, but for once, Malfoy was actually speechless.

I made my way to the door and out of the bathroom with no further delay. I could see Malfoy's reason to doubt me since I was aware that to him, my message must have made little to no sense. Only to him though, as well as any other person that didn't have a clue about the topic.

Voldemort however…

_The diary is destroyed. But is it possible for another human being to become a Horcrux?_

That was what Voldemort would decipher from my words. I took great care after all, to voice them cautiously.

True, the incident in Dumbledore's office had led me to that single conclusion, but one can never be sure. And only one person would be able to confirm my theory, if he managed to connect all the little pieces of the puzzle of course.

If he's aware of the likenesses between us like I am, then he can definitely figure it out.

Mentioning the ring would be useless since I can't be sure whether he's aware of its absence or not. The diary though… Lucius Malfoy must have informed him of the Chamber incident by now, not that it'll be a problem if he hasn't. My question would definitely clue him in.

Will he be willing to grant me the answer, though?

Dumbledore certainly didn't feel obliged, and the cost might be severe. He had, after all, just lost his greatest weapon.

But if there's still anything of Tom Riddle left inside Voldemort, then he won't repeat the same mistake as the Headmaster.

**END OF CHAPTER THREE**

**One more chapter to go!**

**Next will be Voldemort's reaction and the consequences it will befall. **


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The days went by in a blur. I didn't particularly care for any of the events that had taken place, be it class assignments or fights bursting among my peers. They all seemed rather pointless to my opinion.

Things were still pretty much on edge with Ron and Hermione, especially Hermione. She was probably more bothered by my outburst than Ron was, a fact that became known by the multiple times she sought to breach the subject with me, and most of those times hadn't had a happy ending.

The subject of Tom Riddle had become rather sensitive to me in the past few days, something that even Ron caught a whiff of.

Needless to say, Hermione didn't make any further attempts to engage me in conversation about that particular topic. Not that I had any objections.

Malfoy was making quite an effort to avoid me. At one day in particular, I caught his gaze from across the Great Hall and he just-stared- at me for a good minute or two before he decided to break eye contact, something that's just plain suspicious on its own. Malfoy never, absolutely _never, _tore his gaze away first; his pride didn't allow it. Simple as that.

My initials were constantly in a knot, and I was nearly out of my mind with the anxiety that was clawing away at me.

The shock was finally beginning to wear out by now, and I was entirely grateful for that. The days that followed after that revelation, I was constantly numb. Most of the times I wasn't aware of what I was doing, or what I was saying. My brain would just supply me with the response that was required and it would be out of my mouth before I knew it.

It was kind of frightening… I had become kind of frightening, at least to those that were close enough to me to notice.

Ron and Hermione's stares would always be wary, as if fearing that I would just pull out my wand and curse them to oblivion. Ginny would sneak concerned, confused glances at me whenever she thought I wasn't looking and Neville had actually come up to me one day and asked me if everything was alright.

Dean and Seamus always looked away whenever our eyes would meet after that day they found me with a blooded hand and mirror pieces spread all over around me. They had shouted, tried to bring me back to my senses but it was like my body had been on autopilot. I just kept yelling, screaming incoherent things while punching the mirror in front of me, and the one next to it, and the other one besides it, and the next, and the next.

Now that I think about it, the lavatory of our dormitory seemed like it had been struck by a tornado.

I don't really recall, but I believe I had actually snarled in Parseltongue, hissed at them to get their hands off me when they tried to restrain me. I can still remember their stricken expressions, not that I blame them of course.

They had reared back as if struck, looking at me like I was possessed or something. And in all honesty, I had been; possessed by fury and ire, and desperation, and fear. The two boys had run off then, bolting out of the room and returning seconds later with a frantic Hermione and Ron in toe. My friends had grabbed me, one arm each, while screaming for me to snap out of it. I had tried to push them away, but when their grip didn't yield, I had howled at the top of my lungs, all of my pent up emotions finally breaking free.

My memories of that day are somewhat fussy still, but I remember that when I finally escaped from whatever state I had been in I was in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey lecturing me about my carelessness and idiocy.

I learnt later on that Hermione and Ron had told her that the bathroom had been flooded. I didn't notice the water on the floor in time and thus, I ended up slipping forward, my hand smacking with the mirror when I flung it out lessen my fall.

I imagine that they must have been pretty shaken up themselves to purposefully lie to the medi witch.

They haven't come up to me about that incident yet, and I have no idea whatsoever what I'm gonna say when they do. How do I explain to them that I got fed up with my own reflection? How I hated the image I saw now that I knew the reason behind its similarity with Riddle's was due to that bloody piece of him inside me?

And Riddle himself wasn't making matters any easier for me! Had he ignored my message? Thinking it to be the foolish rumblings of his enemy? If he had actually replied, Malfoy would have told me already, right? Even he isn't stupid enough to ignore something as important as this.

No matter, the fact still remained; Malfoy was purposefully avoiding me. Something must have happened for sure; otherwise he would have confronted me already. Either way, I wasn't going to let this farce continue.

Catching him off guard was, in fact, far easier than I had first thought, especially when one has the aid of a perfect invisibility cloak. Already aware of the location of the Slytherin common room thanks to my little excursion with Ron back in our second year, all I had to do was wait under the Cloak till Malfoy made his appearance. Considering that students were already leaving the Great Hall long before I did, it shouldn't take long for his group to arrive.

And as if on cue, their predictability didn't disappoint me. Slytherins never wasted time in the Great Hall. They stayed for as long as necessary to fill their bellies and then were on their merry way for their House. Obviously, there were better ways to entertain themselves in the safety of their slimy dungeon.

Well… I may be exaggerating a little, seeing as their common room had been anything but slimy, despite the fact it's right under the Black Lake.

Still, the quality time they seem to have come up with merely worked in my favor. I couldn't keep the frown off my face when I realized that it was more than his two cronies tonight. Parkinson's presence didn't come as big surprise, but Nott and Zabini's certainly did. It was as if they had been actually anticipating an ambush and all the Death Eaters junior decided to stick together.

Pfft… paranoid bastards.

I moved out of the shadowy corner I had been occupying for half an hour, stepping closer to them as quietly as possible. Zabini and Nott were speaking in hushed tones among themselves, their whispers becoming lost to me once they stepped through the Hole. I didn't even hear them saying the password. Crabbe and Goyle were next, only sparing one last glance towards Malfoy before passing through.

Brilliant. Only one more to go. Now, if only I could figure out how to dislodge Parkinson from Malfoy's arm without her noticing, all would be perfect.

Seriously, I would have snorted if I could.

I ghosted my hands over her shoulder, giving it the lightest of taps in the hopes of catching her attention, but she didn't even bat an eye. I could feel my teeth grinding together as my opportunity seemed to slip right out of my hands. Here I was, with Malfoy within arm's reach, and I couldn't get the information I needed out of him. Simply put; it was absolutely maddening.

…And something that I wouldn't allow.

Sighing in resignation at the only choice that I was left, I wiped out my wand and before none of them could react, I cast the Stunning Curse. Good thing that the Ministry hadn't qualified that spell into the Dark category, because I doubt that Hogwarts wouldn't have notified the Headmaster. As luck would have it, Parkinson let out a particularly loud screech from the slight sting of the curse, before dropping in an ungraceful heap on the dungeon floor.

As expected, Malfoy spun around in the blink of an eye, wand out and grey eyes jerking in every possible direction in an attempt to spot the perpetrator. He had adequate reflexes, I would give him that.

"Perhaps it's meaningless to say this now," Malfoy's entire body seemed to stiffen as my voice carried over to him, eyes flickering wildly all around, "but we really need to talk."

"Where are you?" he grumbled, not even bothering to raise his voice in the stillness of the dungeons where all noise was intensified tenfold.

I chuckled humorlessly. With one quick motion I sent a stinging jinx straight into his back, figuring that it'd be satisfactory enough. Malfoy yelled, swearing as he whirled around and promptly favoring me with one of his infamous glares the moment his gaze caught mine.

"That," I said while tucking away my Cloak, "was for ignoring me on purpose for the last couple of days."

He pulled out his own wand, taking the proper defensive stance we had been taught while in the middle of a duel. I noticed that his posture was far more relaxed, his movements deliberately slow. I guess that being the sole heir to an ancient line of purebloods was equated with perfectionism. Or I could simply dismiss that as him being his usual stuck up, snobbish self and wanted to look down on me from his much too high post.

"What exactly is this?" he spat irritably, "Can't stand it when people are giving you the silent treatment?"

He could be so fucking amusing sometimes. "Normally, I'd thank the heavens for such small mercies, but you have something I want." One platinum eyebrow arched upwards, eliciting a narrowed stare from me as I elaborated. "An answer."

His shoulders stiffened in an instant, proving that my suspicions had been correct all along. "Talk." I gritted out.

Silence reigned over for the first couple of minutes, my patience diminishing little by little. He kept glancing at me, briefly and intensely, before letting his gaze turn downcast and away from my gradually narrowing eyes.

"Malfoy!" I hissed lowly, impatiently.

He spared me a baleful glare, which I didn't hesitate to return vehemently. He grunted shortly after, eyes rolling to the ceiling exasperatedly before he reached within the folds of his robes. I could feel my eyes trailing the movement almost obsessively. This was it, right?

He hesitated for a second, causing me to take a step forward, ready to tackle him to the ground if necessary and take by force whatever it was he was hiding from me.

His eyelids fell to half-mast, seemingly in resignation. Heaving a sigh, he withdrew his arm, flicking something at me. I flung my hand out in front of my face, encaging it with my fingers. It was small and light, and my curiosity spiked suddenly. I brought my hand close for inspection, unclasping my fingers tentatively.

What the-?

All I could do was blink. Was this supposed to be some kind of joke?

"What the hell is this?" I ground out, showing the white chess piece in my hand.

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, his posture clearly uneasy, but it did nothing to deflate my temper.

"He just told me to pass this to you."

Damn, I don't think I've ever felt so humiliated. No, wait. There was this time in my second year that Ginny had made that poem for Valentine's Day and had it sang to me by that blasted, angel-clad creature in front of the entire Great Hall. Back then I had felt ready to die from mortification. What had made her do something so foolish is beyond me.

But this was worst. The Dark Lord himself was clearly mocking me with this.

Well, screw him!

I felt the piece digging painfully into the flesh of my palm from the way I was gripping it, but I could care less. I spun around, intent to find some solitude and desperately needing something to punch, something that wouldn't protest, preferably. A wall perhaps?

"Potter!" Malfoy called out, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

"What?!" I snapped back, with more viciousness than the blond deserved. He was, after all, only the messenger.

"One more thing. He said to speak, and it'll answer."

At my incredulous stare, Malfoy lifted a hand to scratch at his chin, expression thoughtful. "Yeah, I've no clue either. I tried a couple of times, just some random words in case it triggered an incantation, but…" he trailed off, and I got the gist of what he was trying to say.

Exhaling deeply through the nose, I nodded once.

He returned the gesture tensely and crouched down, readying to lift the Stunning Curse from Parkinson. It was my cue to leave, unvoiced but present all the same.

It's not like he needed any thanks.

Actually, by all standards, I shouldn't even have asked him of this. The Boy-Who-Lived, requesting a message to be delivered to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?

The world was seriously coming to ruins, wasn't it?

***)&(***

My legs were beginning to cramp from the pacing I had been doing for the past hour or so. It'd be dinner time soon, and thankfully the rest of my dorm mates had gathered in the common room, leaving the dormitory all to myself.

I glanced at the chess piece in my hand for what felt like the millionth time in just fifteen minutes.

Like Malfoy, I had tried any random word that came to mind, and when the random ones didn't seem to do the trick, I attempted being more specific.

Horcrux.

Diary.

Ring.

Dark Magic…

None of them had been of much help. I was at my wit's end here. What the heck was he expecting from me?

Speak and it'll answer. Ha! How enlightening!

My next step paused in midair.

Speak…speak!

He wouldn't have…- No, it was impossible. There wasn't a spell like this, right?

Then again, that sink in Myrtle's bathroom would only open if ordered in the serpent tongue. And if a sink had been enchanted to react solely on Parseltongue…why not a plain piece of chess?

I twirled the white piece in my fingers, now looking at it in a new light. Should I?

For precaution's sake, I cast a Muffling Spell on the door, just like Hermione had done, and made sure to lock it as well.

Looking down at the piece in my hand, I couldn't find what was so special about it that Voldemort would feel the need to send it to me. Did it have something to do with what I asked Malfoy to tell him?

I brought it closer to my lips, unsure whether the distance mattered on not, and feeling ultimately stupid by the action.

If only Skeeter could see me now; Harry Potter, conspiring with a chess piece. Oh, the _Prophet _would have had a field day.

"_Reveal yourssself." _

As if a switch had been flipped, the reaction to those two, simple words was instantaneous.

I choked back a gasp as I dropped it from my hand. The piece rolled on the ground, going in tiny little circles around itself for a good few seconds or so. By each twiddle that it performed, the blacker it was becoming, more and more of its white surface darkening further.

It came to a stop at my foot. It was like it had been dropped into an inkwell, the pitch black color it was now sporting nearly glistening under the light of the dormitory.

I bent down, watching it warily before reaching out and lifting it off the floor.

I frowned, turning it about in my hand and I could swear that my heart literally skipped a beat. On its other side, from top to bottom, was scrawled a single word in white, contracting violently with the rest of the blackness.

_C_

_H_

_E_

_C_

_K_

_M_

_A_

_T_

_E_

This was… W-what the hell was this?

Only then did I realize that the piece I had been holding, and pondering on its meaning all this time, was the Queen.

A White Queen, ordered in the language of serpents to reveal her true colors, and it transformed into a Black Queen, betraying her King for the leader of their enemies.

I laughed, I couldn't help it. I laughed long and hard, sinking down on my knees and grasping my aching sides. Honestly, if anyone were to hear me, they'd surely claim I had gone insane from the sound of my laughter, which steered way too close to cackles even to my own ears.

The metaphor Voldemort had used was so fucking accurate that it was bordering on ridiculous.

Yes, I suppose that if were represented on a chess board, those would surely be the roles we'd be adopting.

Albus Dumbledore; the defender of the weak, the innocent and the good. A White King, determined and brave.

Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort; the esteemed leader of all that is dark, merciless to his enemies. A Black King, unyielding and powerful.

Harry Potter; the beacon of light and symbol of hope. Selflessly protecting his people, and aiding his leader, the second more powerful of the Light Side after the King; a White Queen, brought out to fight the battles of the White King.

But the White King had made a mistake, a fatal one at that.

He wanted to use his most powerful minion to weaken the Black King, deeming the sacrifice of his devoted follower unimportant if it'd provide him with victory.

And by doing so, he converted the White Queen for good.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, not sure why I even bother with whispering.

And the worst irony of all?

If Dumbledore had discussed this with me, informed me about the gravity of the situation and of the role that I was going to play in this war, I would have probably opted to be the sacrificial lamb on my own. If it meant the safety of my friends and all the people I loved, I wouldn't have hesitated to do it.

But he did none of those!

He didn't give me the liberty of choice at all. The right to decide for my own life wasn't even in my hands! All this time…all this time he had been raising me, guiding me with his advice and words of wisdom, caring for me like a parental figure, and for what? So that when the time was ripe, he'd have in his hands the perfect sacrifice. Someone that'd willingly give his life; the perfect martyr!

Who the hell gave him the right to decide for me?! Who gave him the right to play God?!

Voldemort, on the other hand, wasn't stupid. Far from it actually.

I stared down at the Black Queen, seeing it for what it really was. Voldemort at least had given me an alternative. Remain his foe, or join forces with him. That's what the chess piece represented; the choice I had in this matter.

A choice that Dumbledore never felt compelled to grant me with.

I abandoned my crouched position and lied down fully, bringing an arm up to eye level, the words that been created by Voldemort's hand staring back at me.

Well, who said that I still couldn't protect my friends from the other side of the chess board? I could feel my lips stretching out, pulling and pulling until an ear-splitting grin was covering my face.

"Checkmate, eh?"

**TBC…**

**Yes, there's more. I decided to leave it here because it'd become too long.**

**So, yep, one more chapter to go!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yes, the last chapter is finally here!**

**For the pleasure of all of my wonderful readers!**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The days were slowly becoming a blur, impossible to discern one from the other.

The chaos that had taken residence in my head began dissipating slowly. A numbness, firm like steel, held the reins over my senses. The acceptance of the situation left me strangely distanced from my surroundings. Yes, I had already decided on my course of action, but I still couldn't deal with the outcome it would result to.

It was inevitable, though, and something I didn't want to bring on my friends.

The atmosphere in the dormitory that had been fidgety after my outburst in the bathroom, now had rocketed to downright unbearable.

Dean and Seamus were walking on eggshells around me, afraid that if they so much as glanced at me the wrong way I'd curse them or something. Neville was the most uncomfortable, clueless as to how to reverse the situation.

Ron wanted to make amends but, for once, he respected my desire to be left alone.

I stopped making any effort to patch things up with him and Hermione. What would be the point? They would hate me either way. At least if they didn't care for me any longer it'd be far less painful for them to let go and move on.

The entire Gryffindor House, usually easygoing and carefree, had caught up that something major was happening within the den and were acting more sober than ever.

A fact that, like all previous mornings, was practically screamed out to anyone that set foot in the Great Hall today. It was late, the House tables were already full, but the Hall was considerably tamer than normal. At first I didn't bother with this strange occurrence, passing it up to the exams that were only a few weeks away. After the fifth time this repeated itself, I couldn't help the curious glances I sent to my housemates.

It became apparent then that the fishy thing that had been bugging me for some time now, was the loud chatter and laughter absent from my table. Its occupants still conversed, but with a restraint I never knew they possessed.

Like I had been doing on every meal for a couple of weeks now, I took my newest seat on the table; on the far end, as farther as I could from Hermione and Ron.

Almost instantaneously, most of my year mates sagged, hunching in on themselves.

Each time the same thing replayed, it was becoming harder for me to repress a snort.

The first couple of times I admit it was kind of touching to see the extent to which they cared. The times that followed after that it turned amusing. Now I simply found it nosy. Why should it be any of their busyness what I did with my friends? It didn't affect their lives in any way possible.

Classes were going to start soon.

I wasn't particularly hungry anyway. I took a few sips of pumpkin juice before wiping my mouth with a napkin and rising.

At the exactly same moment Malfoy did the same.

Hermione and Ron's shoulders grew rigid as they took notice.

I made my way to the double doors, not batting a single eye when Malfoy fell in step with me, Parkinson, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle surrounding us from the rear.

And like always, all chatter in the Hall lapsed for the briefest of seconds.

What had the corner of my mouth curling upwards, however, was the heavy stare I could sense boring into my head from behind. Never before had I enjoyed Dumbledore's plight so uncharacteristically much.

Beside me, Malfoy snickered.

I don't know what brought on this change in Slytherin's dynamics, but ever since the day after I received the chess piece, the elite snakes had simultaneously fallen into this role. A hunch told me it was all Voldemort's doing, but as I couldn't just up and ask them, it remained a mere speculation.

The _Daily Prophet _had remained surprisingly ignorant of this, seeing as no articles about another Dark Lord in the making had made the front page yet.

Now _that_, had Voldemort practically written all over it, since most students must have blubbered on to their parents by now.

As it was, I couldn't have been more pleased with the interference. It made things easier for me by far.

I fingered the Queen that I had taken to carrying inside my robes. Malfoy and the others were probably aware that I was on their side now, and considering that the group had the entire Slytherin House under their command, the rest of the snakes had been let in on the general picture to avoid unnecessary drama, for sure.

Besides that, however, I was pretty much stumped.

I had to carry out the role I had adopted, that was certain, but I didn't know when and how the curtain would fall. To the rest of the Hogwarts population, I underwent a change of character and suddenly dumped my best friends for the company of Slytherin's Prince and the rest of its monarchs.

My act was pretty flawless, if I could say so myself.

_But how much longer do I need to play along? _I thought bitterly, fingers clenching around the chess piece. I wasn't familiar with keeping up an impeccable façade during all times like the company that had taken to be my escorts. What if I slipped up and my mask cracked?

_No! I can't!_

I had to watch myself constantly, especially around Ron and Hermione. Those two knew me better than anyone. I couldn't allow them to see how much it pained me to treat them this way.

_It's for their own good…_

"Potter," A hand curled around my forearm, snapping me out of my musings.

If it wasn't for the rest of the Gryffindors approaching us, I would have smacked his hand away. I settled for a mild glare as I dragged my gaze from those pale digits to the silver eyes of their owner.

Malfoy, back turned to the upcoming crowd, gave me a haughty smirk.

Aware that I couldn't lash out with all these people around, people I had to persuade I _craved_ his company, he stepped right into my personal space, lips brushing my ear as he bent down slightly.

"Don't lose focus now." he whispered, hot breath tickling my flesh, "Not when you already have them wrapped around your little finger."

Using the arm he was concealing with his body, I dug my nails as hard as I could into his side.

The wince he gave was perceptible only because of our proximity.

I tilted my head to mimic him by speaking into his ear, "Now that you've said your piece, get away from me nice and slow."

He chuckled lowly, stepping to the side and gesturing with his arm towards the DADA classroom his peers had disappeared into. I favored him with the smile that I had made sure to flash only around him these past few days. I had never realized how draining it was to have your emotions go on a rampage inside while keeping your face perfectly stoic.

***)&(***

By the time double Defense Against the Dark Arts was over I wanted to find the nearest wall and bang my head against it.

I loved the subject, truly I did, but Snape had this special way to turn it so unbelievably boring. He didn't teach only through the books like Umbridge had done, but because he had realized there was no possible way to remove points from me when it came to Defense, he had altered courses and simply pretended that for the duration of the lesson I didn't exist.

Neville, though…the poor bloke had dropped his wand thrice when Snape barked at him to correct his stance.

Wand already in my pocket, I made quick work with exiting the room, my bodyguards close at my heels.

"Harry! Harry, wait!"

I nearly did, the familiar voice making me pause instinctively, before I remembered myself and just continued walking, hoping she'd be discouraged from my clear dismissal of her and drop it.

A brown blur whisked past me, "Wait!" she repeated, palms pushing against my chest.

Of course she wouldn't drop it. As if I didn't know her.

I arched an eyebrow, looking down at her hands and Hermione made haste to retrieve them, a red hue coloring her cheeks. She opened her mouth but then closed it indecisively. By the time Ron joined her side, she had repeated that same action a couple of times.

"I'm in a hurry, if you don't mind." I made to sidestep her, but she outstretched her arm, blocking my way.

I shot her an irritated glare.

"Uhm…" she fidgeted, casting an uncertain look towards Ron. "We, uh, were wondering if you wanted, perhaps, to join us at Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

I frowned, only now recalling the scheduled trip to Hogsmeade. It was going to be the last one before the exams.

"I'll be busy." I replied dismissively.

"B-busy?"

"Did I stutter?" I snapped, genuinely angry I made her nervous enough to fumble with her words.

She shrank back, looking properly chided.

"Easy, mate." Ron said, tone placating as he eyed the Slytherins cocooning me. "Can't you spare an hour or so?"

Arms, slim but unmistakably toned, slid around my midsection and I had to fight down the urge to openly tense. A body pressed up against me from behind, while a smooth cheek rubbed against mine.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Weasley," Malfoy sneered, spiting out Ron's last name like it dirtied his tongue, "but I'll be keeping him busy that day, _all day long._"

Ron flushed, and I could feel Malfoy smirk.

"Get your slimy hands off him, you prick!" Ron shouted, lunging at the blond.

"Ron!" Hermione yelled, snatching Ron by the arm at the same time that Malfoy bodily pulled me backwards with him, his arms fastening their hold. Multiple wands were instantly drawn up and pointed at Ron, freezing both him and Hermione in their tracks.

I could swear my heart just missed a beat.

"Enough," I hissed to the armed teens behind me, garnering all of their gazes.

Fueled by the dreadful fact my best friends had been only a hair's breath away from being cursed, I turned furious eyes on Ron and Hermione, "Leave." I spat with enough venom that made them flinch.

"Please," Hermione muttered, almond eyes beseeching. "It can't be over…"

I faltered for a moment, my anger and fear cooling down. This was it. My next words would determine whether I could make my betrayal smoother for them.

There was just…

My lips parted, a chuckle spilling past before it escalated into full blown laughter that had me shaking uncontrollably in Malfoy's grip.

"Over, you say?" I panted out, more laughter tumbling out. "Does that mean we had something to begin with? Oh, please. Can you really be so bloody naïve?" I sobered up, mouth stretching out into a teeth revealing grin. "You've had your uses in the long run, but I can't possibly force myself to endure your presence anymore. There is a limit to how much filth one can stomach, after all."

…no other way.

Tears gathered in Hermione's eyes, sliding down her face and snapping her out of her shocked state. "You can't mean that…" she whispered resolutely.

My grin only grew boarder. "Have you gone deaf? Would you like me to repeat something you didn't catch, _Mudblood_?"

Ron reared back as if struck, face scrunching up.

Hermione's eyes went wide, more tears streaming down her face. She backed away slowly, one step at a time, staring at me with an emotion that could only be described as plain horror before she whirled around and bolted.

Ron's eyes were strangely shimmering when he locked gazes with me. "What the bloody hell have you done with my best friend?" he whispered, the raw contempt in his voice nearly making me cringe.

"Don't delude yourself, Weasley." I sneered back, his hurtful words providing me with ground to work on, needing to dig the knife in deeper.

_Hate me, Ron!_

"Who would ever want to be friends with a good for nothing idiot like yourself?"

Ron's teeth gnashed together, the sound reaching all the way to my ears. He turned away, a single wet line trailing downwards the moment he blinked.

My breath hitched, fingers itching to wrap around his arm and tell him I didn't mean any of it. God, I knew Hermione's tears bothered me, it always did when she cried, but seeing my best friend like that made my stomach churn in the most sickening of ways.

"Who would have thought you were capable of lying so well with a straight face?" Malfoy said, not even bothering to keep his voice low now that Ron was too far ahead to hear.

The underlying pride in that sentence made me absolutely sick.

My fingers wrapped around his arm, burying themselves in his flesh with a ferocity that had me seeing red. He released me with a hiss and I yanked him forward, using his surprise to throw him face first to the floor. He gasped from the impact and I grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back and stepping on it with my knee, utilizing my entire weight to keep him in place while reaching for my wand.

"Provoke me on purpose ever again, Malfoy," I growled, wand tip pressing into his throat, "and I swear I'll put you under the very same Cruciatus that had your dear aunt shrieking like a banshee last year."

Putting as much pressure as I could on his pinned arm, I couldn't fail but relish in the pained grunt that met my ears.

Aware all along that the others wouldn't raise their wands against me, I didn't spare them a single glance as I pushed away from Malfoy and set off down the hallway.

A low whistle reverberated on the walls.

"Wow, our side definitely suits him best. Don't you think, Draco?"

"…Shut up, Blaise."

***)&(***

(Third person pov)

He didn't know for how long he had been staring at the same sentence ever since morning.

He had gone to bed late last night, well after midnight settled. He couldn't afford the mere thought of finding Ron still awake. As it turned out though, he needn't have worried. There had never been a single occurrence in the past where he had found the curtains to Ron's bed drawn, not even during their blowup two years ago.

And yet, when Harry walked into the dormitory last night, the place weirdly devoid of the usual cacophony that Ron's snores orchestrated, it was with a pang that he discovered the bed next to his own cut off from the rest of the world.

He didn't know whether the curtains had been spelled to keep any noise from leaking out or Ron was simply awake behind that velvet shield, but he was too drained to bother dwelling on it.

After shutting his own red curtains, Harry had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He awoke a few hours later, too early for his liking, as the sun had been peeking over the horizon. Succumbing to his fate, he had taken a shower before leaving Gryffindor Tower altogether. Since he had no plans of joining the rest of his housemates to Hogsmeade, he had forgone the Hogwarts uniform for the comfort of some of his Muggle clothes; a pair of black drawstring sweatpants and a plain green T-shirt.

His already dark mood blackened completely by the fact that the pants were riding lower on his hips than before.

He had bought that pair half a year ago, which could only mean he had lost weight. No wonder he hadn't been particularly hungry these past days. Wonderful, simply marvelous! He was finally away from the Dursleys and instead of marveling in the freedom of provided meals, he had been unknowingly starving himself.

Well, to his defense, keeping a constant watch over his emotions was taking far more energy than he had thought. His appetite was nearly nonexistent nowadays.

Despite his better judgment, he had gone straight to the library rather than the Great Hall for an early breakfast. He was too grumpy to restrict his reactions. He had grabbed the first book he laid eyes on and two hours later, he still hadn't made it past the second page.

He was brooding and he knew it, but he couldn't for the life of him, stir his thoughts towards a different course.

"_Would you like me to repeat something you didn't catch, Mudblood?"_

He snapped the book close with a loud thud, shoving it away from him.

How could he have said that?! Yes, he needed them to sever ties with him of their own volition, but he had gone too far! God, the look on Hermione's face… he had never seen her so afraid of him before, not once. And Ron was actually disgusted with him now. He had never known it was going to be this hard. Willingly forcing the closest people he had ever had away…

How had he allowed it to come down to this?

"Here," a voice said from somewhere next to him, and Harry blinked incomprehensively at the apple that was thrust into his face.

Grimacing, he swatted at the hand holding it. "Don't want it."

Malfoy fell into the seat opposite him, legs crossing at the ankles. "When was the last time you ate? Not yesterday, that's for sure."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "What, you're my caretaker now?" In truth, the other boy's little inquiry got him thinking. When _was _the last time he had a proper meal? Strangely enough, his mind came up blank. Well, now that, was pretty worrying.

Malfoy snorted, folding his arms across his chest and looking at him pointedly.

Too tired to pick an argument about something so trivial, Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the apple, summoning it to him wordlessly. He had to admit that the blond had a point, his stomach grumbling from the very first bite he took, as if scolding him for daring to neglect it.

Was it just him or was this apple the sweetest he had ever tasted?

Before he knew it, the fruit was gone, and his stomach seemed to have gone along with it. Now that he had started consuming something other than just pumpkin juice and water, his stomach wouldn't be satisfied with only an apple apparently. His brows furrowed, fingers clutching at the fabric of his T-shirt, only barely swallowing the whimper that threatened to rise from his throat.

Mutely, Malfoy held a second one out to him and Harry instantly made a grab at it, biting into the juicy flesh with such need that unbeknownst to him, a small smile tugged at the corners of his companion's lips.

He finished it as quickly as the first, but when another was presented to him, it gave Harry pause.

He stared at it and then turned to the boy that had moved to the seat next to his own without his notice. For the first time he bothered to question the apples in Malfoy's possession. Exactly how many had he smuggled from the Great Hall? More importantly, how had he known where to look for him? The Slytherin had been strangely tuned to his presence over the past week, actually; always popping up at random times, more often than not accompanied by the usual clique, and just hanging around him.

"Eat up," Malfoy urged, pressing the remaining apple into his palm. "You're going to need your strength."

Harry scowled at the cryptic words, Dumbledore's fondness of riddles bitterly coming to mind. "For what?" he asked, taking a bite at a more leisure pace now that he wasn't feeling as ravenous.

Malfoy either didn't hear him or opted to ignore his question, staring out the window instead.

Harry ate his last apple silently, thoughts involuntary slinking back to their previous subject of contemplation. He scratched his scar absently, mood darkening quickly. He knew he just had to suck it up and let it go. This was what he had wanted from the start, right? So why was he dwelling on it? As long as he was the only one ending up with the most damage it was alright…

He scraped the heel of his palm along the length of his lightning scar, irked at how itchy it was acting.

He took another bite from the apple, eyes unseeing as they stared off into space. That was exactly the problem, wasn't it? If this whole thing hadn't been happening, then no one should have to end up hurt; not him, and certainly not them. They wouldn't have understood, though. Never would have they accepted his reasoning for doing this. Even if he were to explain it to them, they would have scorned him still.

The apple halted mid-way to his lips. Harry huffed, scratching again at his scar with his nail.

He stood angrily. "Hey, I'm going to the bathroom for a moment." Perhaps if he splashed some cold water to his forehead, the itching would cool down. He frowned when he received no reply. "Oi, Malfoy, did you hea-?"

The rest of the sentence got lodged in his throat the moment he turned around, the half eaten fruit falling from his limp fingers.

Malfoy's silver-grey eyes were locked on him, unwavering in their stare, and above him, the bright green Dark Mark was looming over the entire village of Hogsmeade.

Dread spread like liquid fire within Harry's veins. "Ron…" he breathed out, "Hermione…!"

He spun on his heel and ran without a second thought, leaving the empty library and bursting out into an equally void hallway, only to find it not as void as he had expected. His steps came to an instant halt, green eyes narrowing in on the sole figure standing a few feet away.

His teeth grinded together. "Out of my way," he muttered, drawing his wand from the back pocket of his pants.

The elderly wizard remained motionless, hands clasped behind his back.

"He's here for you." Dumbledore said, voice as calm and composed as always.

"My friends are out there," Harry growled through gritted teeth, wand arm rising, "and if you don't let me pass, I swear I won't hesitate to fire."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were unusually sorrowful when they met his gaze. "You would attack me, my boy?"

"Don't try to guilt-trip me, Dumbledore!" Harry took a step forward, posture straightening, "You would see me dead this very moment even, if only you could get away with it."

"He _must_ be stopped."

Harry's upper lip curled in disdain. "Sorry, _professor_," he made sure to put the necessary emphasis on that last word, "but if it's a lamb you're looking for then you should go seek it somewhere else because I've grown tired of playing that role. Now, out of my way!"

Dumbledore sighed deeply, head swaying remorsefully. "You disappoint me, Harry."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Malfoy said sardonically, coming to stand next to the raven haired teen. "Do you expect him to cry, perhaps? Bawl his eyes out because he's fallen out of your favor?" The corners of his lips pulled downwards into a revolted sneer. "How pathetic you've become in your old age, Dumbledore."

"And that shows precisely how young you are, Draco." The corner of Dumbledore's lips quirked into a small smile. "Age is inconsequential when it comes to power. Your lord is the living proof of that rule, is he not?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, but unfortunately for him, Harry was in no mood for this charade. He cast a wordless disarming charm, rolling his eyes at the exasperated look the blond sent him. The spell was blocked of course, as was expected, but he did get his point across. He would have been disappointed actually if the great Albus Dumbledore was taken down by a mere _Expelliarmus._

The Headmaster chuckled softly. "Youngsters these days; so impatient. Very well, then."

Jet after colorful jet bombarded their part of the corridor, and the shield Harry had pulled up in a hurry was already beginning to crack in several places. Beside him, Malfoy had taken the offensive, shooting off some of the most harmful spells he could think of while still mindful of not casting anything labeled as dark, lest he have the castle's enchantments picking up on it.

Harry hissed suddenly, looking down to the burnt patch of skin on his lower arm. Gritting his teeth against the sting, he reinforced his shield, the cracks and holes solidifying again.

"Descendo!" Malfoy shouted, pointing his wand towards a suit of armor and causing it to tumble downwards in Dumbledore's direction, before he performed the same wand movements on the ceiling right above the Headmaster. Rubbles rained all over them, smoke spreading in every which direction.

Harry coughed into his elbow, searching wildly around when a pair of arms shot out from within the dust and pushed violently at his chest.

Not expecting the forceful shove, he stumbled back unbalanced and when he realized his back should have connected with something by then, it was too late. Broken pieces of glass grazed his arms and sides as he fell through the smashed window, spiraling downwards with alarming speed.

It was by pure adrenaline only that he still had hold of his wand, and as he opened his mouth to yell a Summoning Charm, his voice died in his throat.

_The wooden floor creaked noisily as he paced, the sound magnified tenfold in the concrete silence that had enveloped the entire room. It was with disinterest that he observed the muddy paw prints caked on some floorboards which looked to be several years old._

_Coiled in the threshold, Nagini swayed her head accordingly with his movements, always keeping him in her peripheral vision; she had made it her duty to guard him, after all. The thought almost had him laughing. _

_With each flick of her long, serpentine tongue, the two children crammed close on the small rundown cot would reflexively flinch back._

_His familiar hissed furiously at them once they did it again. He had to admit, even he was growing tired of their antics. At least he wouldn't have to wait for long now. His mark had already taken to the skies, it was only a matter of time._

_He closed his eyes briefly, "Harry…" he whispered and his vision was filled with green._

_He blinked at the abruptness of it all and the green eyes blinked back. When he repeated the motion but the other pair failed to do so, he gazed downwards, lips stretching out. "You might want to do something about that broom now, child. The ground is getting closer."_

Harry gasped, blinking profusely to clear his vision. He twisted his head, cursing loudly at the swiftly approaching ground below.

"Accio Firebolt!" he screamed above the whooshing wind, portraying his urgency as best as he could in his thoughts.

Sure enough, his broom could be spotted circling one of the castle's turrets, speeding towards him. He maneuvered in midair, turning on his stomach just in time for his Firebolt to slide smoothly beneath him and he positioned his legs, directing it upwards again just as the back end of the broom grazed the ground.

He tightened his hold, breathing heavily through the mouth.

After taking in enough breaths to calm his racing heart, he accelerated, using the Firebolt's top speed as he flew towards the direction of the Shrieking Shack.

He shuddered violently, the icy wind feeling like tiny little needles were prickling right inside his fresh wounds. Damn, inside Hogwarts it was like summertime. Guess he had only himself to blame for pulling on the first ordinary clothes he had gotten his hands on.

He glanced at his arms, grimacing upon finding them covered in cuts; some of them still had little pieces of glass embedded in them.

Great, just great.

Gradually, he slowed down, lowering his broom close to the assembled, black robed figures near the entrance to the Shack. He dismounted just as Zabini and Nott jogged towards him, the former taking tight hold of his forearm when he swayed dangerously.

"Everything alright, there?" Zabini grinned cheekily at him, but he did squeeze his grip in case Harry got dizzy again.

"Shit, it's the blood loss, isn't it?" Nott asked, taking one look at Harry's arms and torso before pulling out his wand and starting to cast enchantments all over his body. Shortly after, all of the remaining glass was sucked into the wand tip and the skin began knitting back together.

Vision still a little blurry, Harry looked from one boy to another, before settling his gaze on the one nursing his injuries. "You know healing charms?"

Nott snorted, "Clearly," he said, grinning up at Harry.

Harry didn't comment, instead he turned towards the dark skinned boy holding him steady. "I'm fine, now."

"You sure about that?"

Zabini chuckled at the glare he was given, slowly releasing the other boy.

Careful not to move around too much and disturb Nott's concentration, he looked around the people circling them, registering the plain irony that had this been a year ago, he would have been cursing every single one of them by now.

His eyes landed on Lucius Malfoy and he had to stifle the urge to scowl, "Your son is battling Dumbledore as we speak."

Malfoy Sr. looked a bit surprised at having been addressed personally, before he arched a single golden eyebrow, "Draco's task was to create a diversion for you. Now that he has bought enough time for you to reach here, he's free to activate the Portkey he was given. He should be here shortly."

Harry didn't let the relief he was feeling show on his face.

He nodded curtly at the two boys by his side before making his way towards the Shack, the Death Eaters stepping aside to mutely allow him past.

He slipped through the door, head raising to take a look at the stairs above him. Heaving a sigh, he trudged towards the staircase, grasping the withered banister to aid his trek upwards. Nott might have healed him so as not to lose any more blood, but he still hadn't replaced the amount he had already lost. He doubted, however, that his classmates had also come equipped with Blood Replenishing potions.

When he finally reached the top and saw them through the threshold, it was like a huge rock had been lifted right off his chest.

He leapt above the disgruntled snake and ran over to them, throwing his arms around them and crushing them against him. "You're alright, you're alright." he mumbled again and again, to persuade his friends or himself he didn't know. At the mere thought that something might had happened to them while they had parted under such circumstances, breathing became too painful.

Tentatively, their arms lifted to grip him briefly before they pulled away completely, taken aback by the tears brimming in his eyes.

Hermione's eyes instantly filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks, "You were lying," she sobbed out and he nodded frantically, destroying the image he had been trying to build around them but not caring in the least.

He was tired of hiding.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, wiping one of her eyes with his thumb, "You have no idea how much it hurt. I'm really sorry."

Hermione choked back another sob, sniffling as she buried her face in his chest, fisting his tattered shirt.

"You're a right down git, ya know that?" Ron mumbled, rubbing furiously at his eyes and Harry flashed him a watery smile, recalling how he had said the exact same thing to him in their fourth year.

"I know." He squeezed Ron's shoulder, and after failing to stop the tears the red head cursed silently and just squeezed back, grinning toothily.

"Pardon the interruption," a velvety voice drawled right next to his ear, and next thing Harry knew, his friends had reared back, eyes dilated as they clutched at each other.

Harry climbed to his feet, turning around slowly.

Vivid red eyes were drinking in every detail of his face, until an unnaturally long, pale finger lifted to stroke his cheekbone. He shuddered, part of him from the major difference between their temperatures, but mostly because of the jolt that slithered down his spine, causing his skin to erupt in goosebumps.

If he had any doubt before, it was extinguished now.

There was no denying the little flutter of something inside him, flaring to life at the close proximity of the Dark Lord.

It no longer scared him; he had come to accept it a long time ago, along with the consequences it'd bring both to the world and to him.

Voldemort breathed in deeply, eyelids sliding shut.

It was as though he was taking his first breath ever, savoring it to the fullest.

Harry's heart thudded painfully at the picture, for some reason feeling ashamed for having denied the man the right to reunite with a part of himself for so long. It didn't matter now. The shard had been left too long with him, to the point they had become one. He didn't know where Harry Potter started and Tom Riddle ended, anymore. He could no longer tell which emotions were his and which weren't.

…And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Voldemort's eyes snapped open suddenly, staring into his own unwaveringly, like they were the center of his personal universe.

Harry rose on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around the pale column of neck so that he could draw Voldemort's head closer and link their foreheads together, sensing his skin sizzling at the contact.

"He let me suffer all these years so that he could kill me, Tom." he murmured quietly, red orbs not once looking away from him.

"Just like he did with you." he added in a whisper and watched in muted fascination the slit like pupils thinning further, his scar peaking ever so slightly as the Dark Lord's temper spiked.

There was no need for clarification.

They were both aware about whom he was talking.

Dumbledore had abandoned them both; Tom Riddle at that stinky orphanage and Harry Potter at those despicable Muggles that were supposed to be his family. In a way, his conscious ignorance to their foul childhood played an important role to how they turned out.

That foolish old man never learnt from his mistakes.

Strong arms snaked around his back, inching them closer still while cold fingers threaded through his hair. Voldemort guided his head to the side so that lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

"How should we punish him, my little one?"

Harry shivered at the combination of those words and of the hot breath fanning against his flesh.

"It's only polite manners to return the favor, isn't it?"

Voldemort chuckled throatily, "Naturally, that goes without saying. Any specific requests?"

"_Massster," _Nagini hissed, abandoning her guard to slither her way towards them.

She coiled her lower body, using it to rise in the air, golden eyes fixated on the raven haired teen. _"Isss thisss the nessstling you ssspoke of? He sssmellsss of kin."_ Her long tongue flicked out, scenting the air around Harry for confirmation but the teen stepped back, wand in hand.

"Harry," Voldemort whispered warningly, taking a step forward.

"No!" Harry growled, for the first time feeling threatened. "She hurt !"

"And I killed your parents," the Dark Lord countered, studying him curiously.

"That was war!"

"And _this _is war."

Harry shook his head furiously, eyes narrowing. "I have nothing against the Order. It's Dumbledore who wants to sacrifice me like a pig."

The Dark Lord's gaze sharpened, "The members of the Order of the Phoenix have thwarted my plans for far too long. If grown wizards aren't capable of protecting themselves, I see no reason to even call them adults."

Harry deflated, wand arm wavering. "Don't harm the children." he whispered, tone imploring.

Voldemort's gaze drifted over Harry's shoulder, upper lip rising in disdain. "_These _children?"

Harry nodded. "And a couple of others."

The Dark wizard clucked his tongue in annoyance. "Is this the cost of your allegiance?"

The raven haired teen bristled, mouth curling into a snarl. "My loyalty can't be bought, Tom. Keep my friends out of this bloody war, however, and you'll have earned my trust."

Voldemort studied his face for a long while, the prolonged scrutiny putting Harry on guard.

"There'll be a specific limit to the number of names you'll present to me." The man said finally and Harry could instantly feel his breathing easing. "However, they must all be underage."

The teen scowled, not pleased to hear that last bit, but aware that the Dark Lord's generosity had been stretched to its limits. "Fine." he consented at last, expression forlorn.

Voldemort inclined his head curtly, satisfied before his attention centered to the two speechless youths on the cot. "What shall be done with your pests? They've witnessed more than they should."

Harry's entire frame grew rigid, eyes turning to the splintered floor.

When they lifted again, they bore into Voldemort's own with resolution. "A little birdie told me you're very good with Memory Charms."

The corners of the wizard's mouth curled into a dark smile.

He drew his bone white wand, walking past Harry, who stood rooted on the spot.

"No…" came Hermione's choked whisper, followed by a rustling sound and Harry could envision his friends crawling as far away from the Dark Lord's approaching form as possible.

"Don't!" Ron yelled, his back hitting the wall, and Harry clenched his jaw.

"No!" Hermione screamed when Voldemort lifted his arm, voice frantic. "Harry, please! Don't this!"

Teeth digging into the flesh of his lower lip, the raven haired teeth resisted the instinctual urge to clasp his hands over his ears.

"Please…" Hermione hiccupped, "Don't make us forget you…Harry, please."

"Goodbye," he whispered quietly and an anguished sob was ripped from Hermione before an almost inaudible _"Obliviate!"_ echoed throughout the tiny room.

Then there was only silence.

Harry exhaled a shaking sigh, breath catching involuntarily in his throat when he was whirled around and slammed against the nearest wall. He winced at the harsh impact but the sound was swallowed whole by the pair of lips that collided with his own. His surprise at the cold sensation was instantly exploited as Voldemort took advantage of his parted lips to plunge inside his mouth, muffling Harry's protests by thoroughly exploring his cavern.

The teen's hands grasped the front of the Dark Lord's robes when the wizard's now hot tongue curled around his own, shuddering violently at the intimate dance it was pulled into, forcing him into participation.

It was only a kiss and yet, the heady sensations assaulting his every nerve were making him strangely disoriented.

"Mngh…!" He shut his eyes, feeling suffocation creeping up on him, but Voldemort still pressed on, insistent on mapping out Harry's mouth, like he wanted to burn every detail into memory.

Black spots were starting to explode behind the teen's closed lids, drawing an incoherent moan when they caused the sensations to grow tenfold.

Voldemort's lips abruptly disconnected from his, and Harry's eyes shot open at once, inhaling greedily and letting out the breath in broken pants.

His chin was taken in a firm grip, and Harry had to blink twice to clear his vision.

Smoldering crimson eyes stared down at him, immobilizing any and all motions on his part. "I'm not Dumbledore, Harry. Once I've claimed something as mine, there is no walking away. I won't allow you to; not now, and not ever. Is that clear?"

Harry gulped audibly, gaze trailing off to the side.

"Is that clear?" he repeated sharply, tightening his hold.

The teen flinched slightly, looking back at the man. "Fine, but no more of…that. Right now, the Headmaster is my only concern."

Voldemort's lips twitched. "No need to worry. We have eternity ahead of us, after all."

Harry tensed, squinting suspiciously up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The back of Voldemort's index finger trailed down his cheek in a surprisingly gentle caress. "Didn't you know, my little one? As long as you remain a Horcrux, you're immortal. And seeing as I have no intention of extracting the piece of my soul from within you, we will be keeping each other company for quite some time."

The Dark Lord chuckled at the boy's shell-shocked expression, earning himself an absentminded glare.

"It's not like I have any ties left that'd hold me back." Harry muttered scornfully, brow suddenly furrowing. "Does that mean I have to get along with her?" he pointed to the serpent by Voldemort's feet, face scrunching up into a grimace.

Nagini hissed back her displeasure before dragging herself over to the small cot, hovering over the prone forms on top of it.

"Hey!" Harry cried, marching over and pulling at her tail. "I know you can understand English. Get your ugly face away from them!"

She swatted at his hands with the end of her tail, baring her long fangs. _"Massster! Teach the nessstling sssome mannersss or I'll have him for dinner!"_

"_I'd like to sssee you try," _Harry retorted, crossing his arms.

"Quiet, the both of you!" Voldemort hissed in warning, slashing his wand towards the unconscious teens and levitating their bodies from where they lay. Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and exited the room, Ron and Hermione's forms trailing in the air behind him.

Harry growled threateningly when Nagini made to follow, jumping ahead to put some distance between her and his friends.

She grumbled some profanities in his direction, but Harry paid her no heed.

The moment their little group stepped outside, the gathered ring of Death Eaters instantly ceased whatever they were doing to drop down to their knees before the Dark Lord.

Harry scanned the crowd, spotting the person he was looking for and walked over to him.

He pulled him to his feet, raking his eyes over the length of his body and causing his former classmate to arch a single eyebrow. "In one piece, I see."

Malfoy scoffed, "Such faith in my abilities, I'm flattered."

"Not my intention, believe me." Harry rolled his eyes.

Beside the blond, Zabini snorted. "He's acting all tough now, but you should've seen him when he arrived; covered in gashes from head to toe."

"I spent a good twenty minutes on him before I got him back to working order." Nott nodded his agreement with Zabini's words, sending a challenging look towards Malfoy.

The blond huffed, hands at his hips. "I'd like to see in what state you two would be after fighting against Dumbledore."

Zabini held up his hands. "Whoa, there. No need to get riled up."

"Are you alright, though?" Harry asked, making Malfoy turn back to him, his glower slowly dropping.

"Fine," he gestured towards Nott, "As he said, he patched me up."

Nott grinned in triumph, folding his arms over his chest, obviously pleased.

Harry shook his head, turning to go back the way he had come. Just like at Hogwarts, the three of them fell in step with him, Malfoy and Nott at either side of him with Zabini behind him in the rear. He ignored the looks the rest of the Death Eaters kept shooting them, having learnt by now that the little formation could receive an immeasurable amount of staring.

He could feel Voldemort's gaze on him, observing his every move, but he chose not to comment on it.

Upon reaching the unconscious figures on the ground, he extracted himself from the others and stepped around his friends' bodies, kneeling between them. He stared at their faces, sensing something constrict behind his chest the longer he did. Shaky fingers reached out, brushing a couple of stray locks of hair off Hermione's face, so serene in her slumber.

Only the tear stains indicated the turbulent state she had been subjected to.

Ron, on the other hand, wore an expression of absolute torture, his brow set into a deep scowl.

Harry smiled ruefully, hand enclosing around Ron's wrist and applying the barest of pressures. "Take care of her, mate."

Fingers withdrawing completely, he rose to his feet. Green orbs settled on the three boys before him, features smoothed into something unreadable. "You'll take them back to the castle, someplace where they're certain to be found. Even if wards have been pulled up, you're all students, so you're bound to be allowed passage."

"They'll reach Hogwarts safe, and unharmed." Harry put emphasis on the last three words, eyes narrowing in clear warning.

He didn't need to point out the hell that there'd be to pay should the last requirement not be met. They knew more than anyone the importance those two people held to him, as well as the extent to which he was willing to go in order to ensure their safety.

In one fluid motion, as though it had been performed million times in the past, they fell to one knee, their splayed out hands coming to rest on their chests as they gazed steadily at him.

"Yes, my Prince." Came the chorused reply.

Working with coordination, Malfoy and Zabini cast Disillusionment Charms on Ron and Hermione respectively, while Nott took care of the Disillusionment Charms on all three of them.

Soon, there were no traces left of them, and the shuffling of feet that still reached Harry's ears were extinguished the moment the Muffling Charm fell into place.

Silence stretched out in the clearing after their departure, broken only by Lucius' affronted whisper of "Draco!"

Harry hummed under his breath, taking out his own wand to cast a Heating Charm over his clothes, shivering pleasantly once it took effect. The wind had gotten too chilly for his liking. "Don't bother, Mr. Malfoy." he said absently, pocketing his wand. "They've been mine for weeks now."

He turned to meet Voldemort's ever present gaze. "You don't mind, do you?"

The Dark Lord merely stared back passively. "I do hope you haven't forgotten everything I told you already."

A light flush dusted Harry's cheeks in response and Voldemort nodded, satisfied.

He crooked his fingers, gesturing the boy over.

Harry eyed him apprehensively for a moment, certain he was going to pull something funny in front of his entire army. Tentatively, he approached the older wizard.

Voldemort exhaled, exasperated, before reaching down to tilt the boy's chin upwards. He bent his neck, placing a small kiss in the center of Harry's forehead. "Welcome, my Black Prince."

"Another title?" Harry rolled his eyes. "As if the others weren't enough."

There was a strange gleam in the Dark Lord's eyes when he straightened. "There are no other titles. The Boy-Who-Lived was killed this very day by the hand of the Black Prince, a pawn which I had yet to move on the chessboard. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's memories will attest to that, considering that Harry Potter was murdered right before their eyes."

Harry stared at him agape, blinking aching slow.

"…You altered their memories, not erased them?"

Voldemort smirked, a twisted sort of smile that provided Harry with the answer he needed.

"Let us see how the great Albus Dumbledore shall fare against the newest addition to our game."

The smile that Harry flashed him in return was just as wicked.

_**THE END**_

**And yes, it is finally done!**

**Any views on the last chapter?**


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